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KEITH   OF   THE  BORDER 


By  MR.  PARRISH 


When  Wilderness  Was  King:    A  Tale  of  the  Illinois 

Country.  Illustrated  by  the  Kinneys. 
My  Lady  of  the  North:    The  Love  Story  of  a  Gray- 
Jacket.    Illustrated  by  E.  M.  Ashe. 
A  Sword  of  the  Old  Frontier:    A  Romance  of  the 

Time  of  Pontiac's  Conspiracy.     Illustrated  by   F.   C. 

Yohn. 
Bob  Hampton  of  Placer:    A  Tale  of  Two  Soldiers  of 

the  Seventh.    Illustrated  by  Arthur  I.  Keller. 
Beth  Norvell:   A  Romance  of  the  West.    Illustrated 

by  N.  C.  Wyeth. 
Prisoners  of  Chance.    Illustrated  by  the  Kinneys. 
The   Last  Voyage  of  the  Donna   Isabel:    A  Ro. 

mance  of  the  Sea.    Illustrated  by  Allen  T.  True. 
My  Lady  of  the  South:    A  Story  of  the  Civil  War. 

Illustrated  by  Alonzo  Kimball. 

Each,  Crown  8vo,  $1.50. 


Don  Mac  Grath:    A  Tale  of  the  River.    Illustrated  by 
John  W.  Norton.     Crown  8vo,  $1.30. 


Historic  Illinois:  The  Romance  of  the  Earlier  Days 
With  Map  and  Fifty  Illustrations.    $2^0  net. 

The  Great  Plains:  The  Romance  of  Western  Amer- 
ican Exploration,  Warfare,  and  Settlement,  1527-1870. 
With  Numerous  Illustrations.    Si.ys  net. 


A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.,  Publishers,  Chicago. 


It  is  not  going  to  be  good-bye,  then.     Hope,  I'll  find  you  " 


KdtlioffheBorder 

ATALE  OF  THE  PLAINS 
RANDALL  PARRISH 

V 
AUTHORy*  NY  LADYyiHE  SOUTH 

>VHENmDERNESSWASKING.ETCCTC 


WITH   FOUR^ 
ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  FULL  COLOR 

■W.HERBERT  DUNTON 


CHICAGO 
A.C.McCLURG  h  CO. 

1910 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 

1910 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  England 
All  Rig/its  Reserved 

Published,  Sept.  24,  1910 


CONTENTS 


:H  AFTER  PAGE 

I    The   Plainsman 9 

II     The  Scene  of  Tragedy 20 

III  An    Arrest 28 

IV  An  Old  Acquaintance 38 

V    The    One    Way 46 

VI    The     Escape 55 

VII    In    the    Sand    Desert 64 

VIII    The     Wilderness     Cabin 72 

IX     The  Girl  of  the   Cabin 81 

X     Mr.    Hawley    Reveals    Himself 91 

XI    The   Fight   in   the   Dark 99 

XII     Through  the  Night  Shadows 108 

XIII  The  Ford  of  the  Arkansas 116 

XIV  The  Landlady  of  the  Occidental 124 

XV    Again   Christie   Maclaire 132 

XVI     Introducing  Doctor  Fairbain 140 

XVII     In  the  Next  Room 148 

XVIII    Interviewing  Willoughby 156 

XIX    A  Glimpse  at  Conspiracy 164 

XX    Hope  Goes  to  Sheridan 172 

XXI    The  Marshal  of  Sheridan 184 

XXII    An  Interrupted  Interview 197 

XXIII  An    Unexpected   Meeting 209 

XXIV  A  Mistake  in  Assassination 223 

XXV    A  Reappearance  of  the  General 231 

XXVI    A    Chance    Conversation 241 


M20G 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVII    Miss  Hope  Suggests 250 

XXVIII    The  Stage  Door  of  the  Trocadero 263 

XXIX    By  Force  of  Arms 273 

XXX     In   Christie's    Room 284 

XXXI    The  Search  for  the  Missing 292 

XXXII    Fairbain  and  Christie 302 

XXXIII  Following   the   Trail 313 

XXXIV  Again  at  the  Cabin 325 

XXXV    The  Cabin  Taken 338 

XXXVI    The  Duel  in  the  Desert 346 

XXXVII    At  the  Water-hole 354 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"  It  is  not  going  to  be  good-bye,  then,  Hope ;  I'll  find 
you " Frontispiece 

His  was  figure  and  face  to  be  noted  anywhere     .      .      .154 

Tireless,     steadily,     scarcely    speaking,     the    pursuers 
pressed  forward  at  an  easy  trot  316 

Across  the  intervening  desert,  the  eyes  of  the  two  men 
met  in  grim  defiance 35o 


vn 


KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

A  TALE  OF  THE  PLAINS 
CHAPTER  I 

THE    PLAINSMAN 

THE  man  was  riding  just  below  the  summit  of 
the  ridge,  occasionally  uplifting  his  head  so  as  to 
gaze  across  the  crest,  shading  his  eyes  with  one  hand, 
to  thus  better  concentrate  his  vision.  Both  horse  and 
rider  plainly  exhibited  signs  of  weariness,  but  every 
movement  of  the  latter  showed  ceaseless  vigilance,  his 
glance  roaming  the  barren  ridges,  a  brown  Winches- 
ter lying  cocked  across  the  saddle  pommel,  his  left 
hand  taut  on  the  rein.  Yet  the  horse  he  bestrode 
scarcely  required  restraint,  advancing  slowly,  with  head 
hanging  low,  and  only  occasionally  breaking  into  a 
brief  trot  under  the  impetus  of  the  spur. 

The  rider  was  a  man  approaching  thirty,  somewhat 
slender  and  long  of  limb,  but  possessing  broad,  squared 
shoulders  above  a  deep  chest,  sitting  the  saddle  easily 
in  plainsman  fashion,  yet  with  an  erectness  of  carriage 

9 


lo  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

which  suggested  niiJItary  training.  The  face  under 
the  wide  brim  of  the  weather-worn  slouch  hat  was 
clean-shaven,  browned  by  sun  and  wind,  and  strongly 
marked,  the  chin  slightly  prominent,  the  mouth  firm, 
the  gray  eyes  full  of  character  and  daring.  His  dress 
was  that  of  rough  service,  plain  leather  "  chaps,"  show- 
ing marks  of  hard  isage,  a  gray  woolen  shirt  turned 
low  at  the  neck,  with  a  kerchief  knotted  loosely  about 
the  sinewy  bronzed  throat.  At  one  hip  dangled  the 
holster  of  a  "  forty-five,"  on  the  other  hung  a  canvas- 
covered  canteen.  His  was  figure  and  face  to  be  noted 
anywhere,  a  man  from  whom  you  would  expect  both 
thought  and  action,  and  one  who  seemed  to  exactly 
fit  into  his  wild  environment. 

Where  he  rode  was  the  very  western  extreme  of  the 
prairie  country,  billowed  like  the  sea,  and  from  off 
the  crest  of  its  higher  ridges,  the  wide  level  sweep  of 
the  plains  was  visible,  extending  like  a  vast  brown 
ocean  to  the  foothills  of  the  far-away  mountains.  Yet 
the  actual  commencement  of  that  drear,  barren  ex- 
panse was  fully  ten  miles  distant,  while  all  about  where 
he  rode  the  conformation  was  irregular,  comprising 
narrow  valleys  and  swelling  mounds,  with  here  and 
there  a  sharp  ravine,  riven  from  the  rock,  and  invisible 
until  one  drew  up  startled  at  its  very  brink.  The  gen- 
eral trend  of  depression  was  undoubtedly  southward, 


THE  PLAINSMAN  ii 

leading  toward  the  valley  of  the  Arkansas,  yet  irreg- 
ular ridges  occasionally  cut  across,  adding  to  the  con- 
fusion. The  entire  surrounding  landscape  presented  the 
same  aspect,  with  no  special  object  upon  which  the  eye 
could  rest  for  guidance  —  no  tree,  no  upheaval  of  rock, 
no  peculiarity  of  summit,  no  snake-like  trail, —  all  about 
extended  the  same  dull,  dead  monoi=ony  of  brown,  sun- 
baked hills,  with  slightly  greener  depressions  lying  be- 
tween, interspersed  by  patches  of  sand  or  the  white 
gleam  of  alkali.  It  was  a  dreary,  deserted  land, 
parched  under  the  hot  summer  sun,  brightened  by  no 
vegetation,  excepting  sparse  bunches  of  buffalo  grass 
or  an  occasional  stunted  sage  bush,  and  disclosing 
nowhere  slightest  sign  of  human  habitation. 

The  rising  sun  reddened  the  crest  of  the  hills,  and 
the  rider,  halting  his  willing  horse,  sat  motionless,  gaz- 
ing steadily  into  the  southwest.  Apparently  he  per- 
ceived nothing  there  unusual,  for  he  slowly  turned  his 
body  about  in  the  saddle,  sweeping  his  eyes,  inch  by  inch, 
along  the  line  of  the  horizon,  until  the  entire  circuit  had 
been  completed.  Then  his  compressed  lips  smiled 
slightly,  his  hand  unconsciously  patting  the  horse's  neck. 

"  I  reckon  we  're  still  alone,  old  girl,"  he  said  quietly, 
a  bit  of  Southern  drawl  in  the  voice.  "  We  '11  try  for 
the  trail,  and  take  it  easy." 

He  swung  stiffly  out  of  the  saddle,  and  with  reins 


12  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

dangling  over  his  shoulder,  began  the  slower  advance 
on  foot,  the  exhausted  horse  trailing  behind.  His  was 
not  a  situation  in  which  one  could  feel  certain  of  safety, 
for  any  ridge  might  conceal  the  wary  foemen  he 
sought  to  avoid,  yet  he  proceeded  now  with  renewed  con- 
fidence. It  was  the  Summer  of  1868,  and  the  place 
the  very  heart  of  the  Indian  country,  with  every  sepa- 
rate tribe  ranging  between  the  Yellowstone  and  the 
Brazos,  either  restless  or  openly  on  the  war-path. 
Rumors  of  atrocities  were  being  retold  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  border,  and  every  report  drifting  in  to 
either  fort  or  settlement  only  added  to  the  alarm.  For 
once  at  least  the  Plains  Indians  had  discovered  a  com- 
mon cause,  tribal  differences  had  been  adjusted  in  war 
against  the  white  invader,  and  Kiowas,  Comanches, 
Arapahoes,  Cheyennes,  and  Sioux,  had  become  welded 
together  in  savage  brotherhood.  To  oppose  them  were 
the  scattered  and  unorganized  settlers  lining  the  more 
eastern  streams,  guarded  by  small  detachments  of  reg- 
ular troops  posted  here  and  there  amid  that  broad  wil- 
derness, scarcely  within  touch  of  each  other. 

Everywhere  beyond  these  lines  of  patrol  wandered 
roaming  war  parties,  attacking  travellers  on  the  trails, 
raiding  exposed  settlements,  and  occasionally  venturing 
to  try  open  battle  with  the  small  squads  of  armed  men. 
In  this  stress  of  sudden  emergency  —  every  available 


THE  PLAINSMAN  13 

soldier  on  active  duty  —  civilians  had  been  pressed  into 
service,  and  hastily  despatched  to  warn  exposed  settlers, 
guide  wagon  trains,  or  carry  despatches  between  out- 
posts. And  thus  our  rider.  Jack  Keith,  who  knew  every 
foot  of  the  plains  lying  between  the  Republican  and  the 
Canadian  Rivers,  was  one  of  these  thus  suddenly  requi- 
sitioned, merely  because  he  chanced  to  be  discovered  un- 
employed by  the  harassed  commander  of  a  cantonment 
just  without  the  environs  of  Carson  City.  Twenty  min- 
utes later  he  was  riding  swiftly  into  the  northwest,  bear- 
ing important  news  to  General  Sheridan,  commander  of 
the  Department,  who  happened  at  that  moment  to  be  at 
Fort  Cairnes.  To  Keith  this  had  been  merely  another 
page  in  a  career  of  adventure;  for  him  to  take  his  life  in 
his  hands  had  long  ago  become  an  old  story.  He  had 
quietly  performed  the  special  duty  allotted  him,  watched 
a  squadron  of  troopers  trot  forth  down  the  valley  of  the 
Republican,  received  the  hasty  thanks  of  the  peppery 
little  general,  and  then,  having  nothing  better  to  do, 
traded  his  horse  In  at  the  government  corral  for  a  fresh 
mount  and  started  back  again  for  Carson  City.  For  the 
greater  portion  of  two  nights  and  a  day  he  had  been 
in  the  saddle,  but  he  was  accustomed  to  this,  for  he  had 
driven  more  than  one  bunch  of  longhorns  up  the  Texas 
trail ;  and  as  he  had  slept  three  hours  at  Cairnes,  and  as 
his  nerves  were  like  steel,  the  thought  of  danger  gave 


14  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

him  slight  concern.  He  was  thoroughly  tired,  and  it 
rested  him  to  get  out  of  the  saddle,  while  the  freshness 
of  the  morning  air  was  a  tonic,  the  very  breath  of  which 
made  him  forgetful  of  fatigue. 

After  all,  this  was  indeed  the  very  sort  of  experience 
which  appealed  to  him,  and  always  had  —  this  life  of 
peril  in  the  open,  under  the  stars  and  the  sky.  He  had 
constantly  experienced  It  for  so  long  now,  eight  years, 
as  to  make  it  seem  merely  natural.  While  he  ploughed 
steadily  forward  through  the  shifting  sand  of  the  coulee, 
his  thought  drifted  Idly  back  over  those  years,  and  some- 
times he  smiled,  and  occasionally  frowned,  as  various  in- 
cidents returned  to  memory.  It  had  been  a  rough  life, 
yet  one  not  unusual  to  those  of  his  generation.  Born  of 
excellent  family  In  tidewater  Virginia,  his  father  a  suc- 
cessful planter,  his  mother  had  died  while  he  was  still  in 
early  boyhood,  and  he  had  grown  up  cut  off  from  all 
womanly  Influence.  He  had  barely  attained  his  major- 
ity, a  senior  at  William  and  Mary's  College,  when  the 
Civil  War  came;  and  one  month  after  Virginia  cast  in 
her  lot  with  the  South,  he  became  a  sergeant  in  a  cavalry 
regiment  commanded  by  his  father.  He  had  enjoyed 
that  life  and  won  his  spurs,  yet  It  had  cost.  There 
was  much  not  over  pleasant  to  remember,  and  those 
strenuous  years  of  almost  ceaseless  fighting,  of  long 
night  marches,  of  swift,  merciless  raiding,  of  lonely 


THE  PLAINSMAN  15 

scouting  within  the  enemy's  lines,  of  severe  wounds, 
hardship,  and  suffering,  had  left  their  marks  on  both 
body  and  soul.  His  father  had  fallen  on  the  field 
at  Antietam,  and  left  him  utterly  alone  in  the  world, 
but  he  had  fought  on  grimly  to  the  end,  until  the  last 
flag  of  the  Confederacy  had  been  furled.  By  that  time, 
upon  the  collar  of  his  tattered  gray  jacket  appeared 
the  tarnished  insignia  of  a  captain.  The  quick  tears 
dimmed  his  eyes  even  now  as  he  recalled  anew  that  final 
parting  following  Appomattox,  the  battle-worn  faces  of 
his  men,  and  his  own  painful  journey  homeward,  de- 
feated, wounded,  and  penniless.  It  was  no  home  when 
he  got  there,  only  a  heap  of  ashes  and  a  few  weed- 
grown  acres.  No  familiar  face  greeted  him ;  not  even 
a  slave  was  left. 

1  He  had  honestly  endeavored  to  remain  there,  to  face 
the  future  and  work  it  out  alone ;  he  persuaded  himself 
to  feel  that  this  was  his  paramount  duty  to  the  State, 
to  the  memory  of  the  dead.  But  those  very  years  of 
army  life  made  such  a  task  impossible;  the  dull, 
dead  monotony  of  routine,  the  loneliness,  the  slowness 
of  results,  became  intolerable.  As  it  came  to  thou- 
sands of  his  comrades,  the  call  of  the  West  came  to  him, 
and  at  last  he  yielded,  and  drifted  toward  the  frontier. 
The  life  there  fascinated  him,  drawing  him  deeper  and 
deeper  into  its  swirling  vortex.     He  became  freighter, 


i6  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

mail  carrier,  hunter,  government  scout,  cowboy,  fore- 
man.    Once  he  had  drifted  Into  the  mountains,  and  took 
a  chance  In  the  mines,  but  the  wide  plains  called  him 
back  once  more  to  their  desert  loneliness.    What  an  utter 
waste  It  all  seemed,  now  that  he  looked  back  upon  it. 
Eight  years  of  fighting,  hardship,  and  rough  living,  and 
what  had  they  brought  him?     The  reputation  of  a  hard 
rider,  a  daring  player  at  cards,  a  quick  shot,  a  scorner 
of  danger,  and  a  bad  man  to  fool  with  —  that  was 
the  whole  of  a  record  hardly  won.     The  man's  eyes 
hardened,  his  lips  set  firmly,  as  this  truth  came  crush- 
ing home.     A  pretty  life  story  surely,  one  to  be  proud 
of,  and  with  probably  no  better  ending  than  an  Indian 
bullet,  or  the  flash  of  a  revolver  In  some  barroom  fight. 
The  narrow  valley  along  which  he  was  travelling  sud- 
denly changed  its  direction,  compelling  him  to  climb 
the  rise  of  the  ridge.     Slightly  below  the  summit  he 
halted.     In  front  extended  the  wide  expanse  of  the 
Arkansas  valley,  a  scene  of  splendor  under  the  golden 
rays  of  the  sun,  with  vivid  contrast  of  colors,  the  gray 
of  rocks,  the  yellow  of  sand,  the  brown  of  distant  hills, 
the  green  of  vegetation,  and  the  silver  sheen  of  the 
stream  half  hidden  behind  the  fringe  of  cottonwoods 
lining  its  banks.     This  was  a  sight  Keith  had  often 
looked  upon,  but  always  with  appreciation,  and  for  the 
moment  his  eyes  swept  across  from  bluff  to  bluff  with- 


THE  PLAINSMAN  17 

out  thought  except  for  its  wild  beauty.  Then  he  per- 
ceived something  which  instantly  startled  him  into 
attention  —  yonder,  close  beside  the  river,  just  beyond 
that  ragged  bunch  of  cottonwoods,  slender  spirals  of 
blue  smoke  were  visible.  That  would  hardly  be  a  camp 
of  freighters  at  this  hour  of  the  day,  and  besides,  the 
Santa  Fe  trail  along  here  ran  close  in  against  the  bluff, 
coming  down  to  the  river  at  the  ford  two  miles  further 
west.  No  party  of  plainsmen  would  ever  venture  to 
build  a  fire  in  so  exposed  a  spot,  and  no  small  company 
would  take  the  chances  of  the  trail.  But  surely  that 
appeared  to  be  the  flap  of  a  canvas  wagon  top  a  little 
to  the  right  of  the  smoke,  yet  all  was  so  far  away  he 
could  not  be  certain.  He  stared  in  that  direction  a  long 
while,  shading  his  eyes  with  both  hands,  unable  to  de- 
cide. There  were  three  or  four  moving  black  dots 
higher  up  the  river,  but  so  far  away  he  could  not  dis- 
tinguish whether  men  or  animals.  Only  as  outlined 
against  the  yellow  sand  dunes  could  he  tell  they  were 
advancing  westward  toward  the  ford. 

Decidedly  puzzled  by  all  this,  yet  determined  to  solve 
the  mystery  and  unwilling  to  remain  hidden  there  until 
night,  Keith  led  his  horse  along  the  slant  of  the  ridge, 
until  he  attained  a  sharp  break  through  the  bluff  lead- 
ing down  into  the  valley.  It  was  a  rugged  gash,  nearly 
impassable,  but  a  half  hour  of  toil  won  them  the  lower 


1 8  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

prairie,  the  winding  path  preventing  the  slightest  view 
of  what  might  be  meanwhile  transpiring  below.  Once 
safely  out  In  the  valley  the  river  could  no  longer  be 
seen,  while  barely  a  hundred  yards  away,  winding  along 
like  a  great  serpent,  ran  the  deeply  rutted  trail  to 
Santa  Fe.  In  neither  direction  appeared  any  sign 
of  human  life.  As  near  as  he  could  determine  from 
those  distant  cottonwoods  outlined  against  the  sky, 
for  the  smoke  spirals  were  too  thin  by  then  to  be  ob- 
served, the  spot  sought  must  be  considerably  to  the 
right  of  where  he  had  emerged.  With  this  idea  in  mind 
he  advanced  cautiously,  his  every  sense  alert,  searching 
anxiously  for  fresh  signs  of  passage  or  evidence  of  a 
wagon  train  having  deserted  the  beaten  track,  and 
turned  south.  The  trail  itself,  dustless  and  packed 
hard,  revealed  nothing,  but  some  five  hundred  yards 
beyond  the  ravine  he  discovered  what  he  sought  — 
here  two  wagons  had  turned  sharply  to  the  left,  their 
wheels  cutting  deeply  enough  into  the  prairie  sod  to 
show  them  heavily  laden.  With  the  experience  of  the 
border  he  was  able  to  determine  that  these  wagons  were 
drawn  by  mules,  two  span  to  each,  their  small  hoofs 
clearly  defined  on  the  turf,  and  that  they  were  being 
driven  rapidly,  on  a  sharp  trot  as  they  turned,  and  then, 
a  hundred  feet  further,  at  a  slashing  gallop.  Just  out- 
side their  trail  appeared  the  marks  of  a  galloping  horse. 


THE  PLAINSMAN  19 

A  few  rods  farther  along  Keith  came  to  a  confused 
blur  of  pony  tracks  sweeping  in  from  the  east,  and  the 
whole  story  of  the  chase  was  revealed  as  though  he  had 
witnessed  it  with  his  own  eyes.  They  must  have  been 
crazy,  or  else  impelled  by  some  grave  necessity,  to  ven- 
ture along  this  trail  in  so  small  a  party.  And  they  were 
travelling  west  —  west !  Keith  drew  a  deep  breath,  and 
swore  to  himself,  "  Of  all  the  blame  fools !  " 

He  perceived  the  picture  in  all  its  grewsome  details 
—  the  two  mule-drawn  wagons  moving  slowly  along 
the  trail  in  the  early  morning;  the  band  of  hostile  In- 
dians suddenly  swooping  out  from  some  obscure  hiding 
place  in  the  bluffs;  the  discovery  of  their  presence;  the 
desperate  effort  at  escape;  the  swerving  from  the  open 
trail  in  vain  hope  of  reaching  the  river  and  finding  pro- 
tection underneath  its  banks;  the  frightened  mules  gal- 
loping wildly,  lashed  into  frenzy  by  the  man  on  horse- 
back; the  pounding  of  the  ponies'  hoofs,  punctuated  by 
the  exultant  yells  of  the  pursuers.     Again  he  swore : 

"Of  all  the  blame  fools!" 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    SCENE   OF   TRAGEDY 

WHATEVER  might  be  the  nature  of  the  tragedy 
It  would  be  over  with  long  before  this,  and  those 
moving  black  spots  away  yonder  to  the  west,  that  he  had 
discerned  from  the  bluff,  were  undoubtedly  the  depart- 
ing raiders.  There  was  nothing  left  for  Keith  to  do 
except  determine  the  fate  of  the  unfortunates,  and  give 
their  bodies  decent  burial.  That  any  had  escaped,  or 
yet  lived,  was  altogether  unlikely,  unless,  perchance, 
women  had  been  In  the  party,  in  which  case  they  would 
have  been  borne  away  prisoners. 

Confident  that  no  hostiles  would  be  left  behind  to  ob- 
serve his  movements,  Keith  pressed  steadily  forward, 
leading  his  horse.  He  had  thus  traversed  fully  half  a 
mile  before  coming  upon  any  evidence  of  a  fight  —  here 
the  pursuers  had  apparently  come  up  with  the  wagons, 
and  circled  out  upon  either  side.  From  their  ponies' 
tracks  there  must  have  been  a  dozen  In  the  band.  Per- 
haps a  hundred  yards  further  along  lay  two  dead  ponies. 
Keith  examined  them  closely  —  both  had  been  ridden 
with  saddles,  the  marks  of  the  cinches  plainly  visible. 

20 


THE  SCENE  OF  TRAGEDY  21 

Evidently  one  of  the  wagon  mules  had  also  dropped 
in  the  traces  here,  and  had  been  dragged  along  by  his 
mates.  Just  beyond  came  a  sudden  depression  in  the 
prairie  down  which  the  wagons  had  plunged  so  heavily 
as  to  break  one  of  the  axles;  the  wheel  lay  a  few  yards 
away,  and,  somewhat  to  the  right,  there  lay  the  wreck  of 
the  wagon  itself,  two  dead  mules  still  in  the  traces,  the 
vehicle  stripped  of  contents  and  charred  by  fire.  A  hun- 
dred feet  farther  along  was  the  other  wagon,  its  tongue 
broken,  the  canvas  top  ripped  open,  while  between  the 
two  were  scattered  odds  and  ends  of  wearing  apparel 
and  provisions,  with  a  pile  of  boxes  smoking  grimly. 
The  remaining  mules  were  gone,  and  no  semblance  of 
life  remained  anywhere.  Keith  dropped  his  reins  over 
his  horse's  head,  and,  with  Winchester  cocked  and 
ready,  advanced  cautiously. 

Death  from  violence  had  long  since  become  almost 
a  commonplace  occurrence  to  Keith,  yet  now  he  shrank 
for  an  instant  as  his  eyes  perceived  the  figure  of  a  man 
lying  motionless  across  the  broken  wagon  tongue.  The 
grizzled  hair  and  beard  were  streaked  with  blood,  the 
face  almost  unrecognizable,  while  the  hands  yet  grasped 
a  bent  and  shattered  rifle.  Evidently  the  man  had  died 
fighting,  beaten  down  by  overwhelming  numbers  after 
expending  his  last  shot.  Then  those  fiends  had  scalped 
and  left  him  where  he  fell.     Fifty  feet  beyond,  shot  in 


22  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

the  back,  lay  a  younger  man,  doubled  up  in  a  heap,  also 
scalped  and  dead.  That  was  all;  Keith  scouted  over 
a  wide  circle,  even  scanning  the  stretch  of  gravel  under 
the  river  bank,  before  he  could  fully  satisfy  himself 
there  were  no  others  in  the  party.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  these  two  travelling  alone  would  have  ventured 
upon  such  a  trip  in  the  face  of  known  Indian  hostility. 
Yet  they  must  have  done  so,  and  once  again  his  lips 
muttered: 

"  Of  all  the  blame  fools!" 

Suddenly  he  halted,  staring  about  over  the  prairie,  ob- 
sessed by  a  new  thought,  an  aroused  suspicion.  There 
had  appeared  merely  the  hoof-prints  of  the  one  horse 
alongside  of  the  fleeing  wagons  when  they  first  turned 
out  from  the  trail,  and  that  horse  had  been  newly  shod. 
But  there  were  two  dead  ponies  lying  back  yonder; 
neither  shod,  yet  both  had  borne  saddles.  More  than 
this,  they  had  been  spurred,  the  blood  marks  still 
plainly  visible,  and  one  of  them  was  branded;  he  re- 
membered it  now,  a  star  and  arrow.  What  could  all 
this  portend  ?  Was  it  possible  this  attack  was  no  Indian 
affair  after  all?  Was  the  disfiguring  of  bodies,  the 
scalping,  merely  done  to  make  it  appear  the  act  of  sav- 
ages? Driven  to  investigation  by  this  suspicion,  he 
passed  again  over  the  trampled  ground,  marking  this 
time  every  separate  indentation,  every  faintest  imprint 


THE  SCENE  OF  TRAGEDY  23 

of  hoof  or  foot.  There  was  no  impression  of  a  mocca- 
sin anywhere;  every  mark  remaining  was  of  booted 
feet.  The  inference  was  sufficiently  plain  —  this  had 
been  the  deed  of  white  men,  not  of  red;  foul  murder, 
and  not  savage  war. 

The  knowledge  seemed  to  seer  Keith's  brain  with 
fire,  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  hands  clinched  and  eyes 
blazing.  He  could  have  believed  this  of  Indians,  it 
was  according  to  their  nature,  their  method  of  warfare; 
but  the  cowardliness  of  it,  the  atrocity  of  the  act,  as 
perpetrated  by  men  of  his  own  race,  instantly  aroused 
within  him  a  desire  for  vengeance.  He  wanted  to  run 
the  fellows  down,  to  discover  their  identity.  Without 
thinking  of  personal  danger,  he  ran  forward  on  their 
trail,  which  led  directly  westward,  along  the  line  of 
cottonwoods.  These  served  to  conceal  his  own  move- 
ments, yet  for  the  moment,  burning  with  passion,  he 
was  utterly  without  caution,  without  slightest  sense  of 
peril.  He  must  know  who  was  guilty  of  such  a  crime ; 
he  felt  capable  of  killing  them  even  as  he  would  ven- 
omous snakes.  It  was  a  perfectly  plain  trail  to  follow, 
for  the  fugitives,  apparently  convinced  of  safety,  and 
confident  their  cowardly  deed  would  be  charged  to  In- 
dian raiders,  had  made  no  particular  effort  at  conceal- 
ment, but  had  ridden  away  at  a  gallop,  their  horses' 
hoofs  digging  deeply  into  the  soft  turf.     On  this  re- 


24  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

treat  they  had  followed  closely  along  the  river  bank, 
aiming  for  the  ford,  and  almost  before  he  realized  it 
Keith  was  himself  at  the  water's  edge  where  the  trail 
abruptly  ended,  staring  vaguely  across  toward  the  oppo- 
site shore.  Even  as  he  stood  there,  realizing  the  futil- 
ity of  further  pursuit  amid  the  maze  of  sand  dunes  oppo- 
site, the  sharp  reports  of  two  rifles  reached  him,  spurts 
of  smoke  rose  from  the  farther  bank,  and  a  bullet 
chugged  into  the  ground  at  his  feet,  while  another  sang 
shrilly  overhead. 

These  shots,  although  neither  came  sufficiently  near 
to  be  alarming,  served  to  send  Keith  to  cover.  Cool- 
headed  and  alert  now,  his  first  mad  rage  dissipated,  he 
scanned  the  opposite  bank  cautiously,  but  could  nowhere 
discover  any  evidence  of  life.  Little  by  little  he  com- 
prehended the  situation,  and  decided  upon  his  own  ac- 
tion. The  fugitives  were  aware  of  his  presence,  and 
would  prevent  his  crossing  the  stream,  yet  they  were  not 
at  all  liable  to  return  to  this  side  and  thus  reveal  their 
identity.  To  attempt  any  further  advance  would  be 
madness,  but  he  felt  perfectly  secure  from  molestation 
so  long  as  he  remained  quietly  on  the  north  shore. 
Those  shots  were  merely  a  warning  to  keep  back;  the 
very  fact  that  the  men  firing  kept  concealed  was  proof 
positive  that  they  simply  wished  to  be  left  alone.  They 
were  not  afraid  of  what  he  knew  now,  only  desirous 


THE  SCENE  OF  TRAGEDY  25 

of  not  being  seen.  Confident  as  to  this,  he  retreated 
openly,  without  making  the  slightest  effort  to  conceal 
his  movements,  until  he  had  regained  the  scene  of  mur- 
der. In  evidence  of  the  truth  of  his  theory  no  further 
shots  were  fired,  and  although  he  watched  that  oppo- 
site sand  bank  carefully,  not  the  slightest  movement 
revealed  the  presence  of  others.  That  every  motion 
he  made  was  being  observed  by  keen  eyes  he  had  no 
doubt,  but  this  knowledge  did  not  disconcert  him,  now 
that  he  felt  convinced  fear  of  revealment  would  keep 
his  watchers  at  a  safe  distance.  Whoever  they  might 
be  they  were  evidently  more  anxious  to  escape  discovery 
than  he  was  fearful  of  attack,  and  possessed  no  desire 
to  take  his  life,  unless  it  became  necessary  to  prevent 
recognition.  They  still  had  every  reason  to  believe 
their  attack  on  the  wagons  would  be  credited  to  hos- 
tile Indians,  and  would  consider  it  far  safer  to  remain 
concealed,  and  thus  harbor  this  supposition.  They 
could  not  suspect  that  Keith  had  already  stumbled  upon 
the  truth,  and  was  determined  to  verify  It. 

Secure  in  this  conception  of  the  situation,  yet  still 
keeping  a  wary  eye  about  to  guard  against  any  treach- 
ery, the  plainsman,  discovering  a  spade  in  the  nearest 
wagon,  hastily  dug  a  hole  in  the  sand,  wrapped  the  dead 
bodies  in  blankets,  and  deposited  them  therein,  piling 
above  the  mound  the  charred  remains  of  boxes  as  some 


26  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

slight  protection  against  prowling  wolves.  He  searched 
the  clothing  of  the  men,  but  found  little  to  reward  the 
effort,  a  few  letters  which  were  slipped  into  his  pockets 
to  be  read  later,  some  ordinary  trinkets  hardly  worth 
preserving  except  that  they  might  assist  in  identifying 
the  victims,  and,  about  the  neck  of  the  elder  man,  a 
rather  peculiar  locket,  containing  a  portrait  painted 
on  ivory.  Keith  was  a  long  time  opening  this,  the  spring 
being  very  ingeniously  concealed,  but  upon  finally 
succeeding,  he  looked  upon  the  features  of  a  woman 
of  middle  age,  a  strong  mature  face  of  marked  refine- 
ment, exceedingly  attractive  still,  with  smiling  dark  eyes, 
and  a  perfect  wealth  of  reddish  brown  hair.  He  held 
the  locket  open  in  his  hands  for  several  minutes,  wonder- 
ing who  she  could  be,  and  what  possible  connection  she 
could  have  held  with  the  dead.  Something  about  that 
face  smiling  up  into  his  own  held  peculiar  fascination 
for  him,  gripping  him  with  a  strange  feeling  of  famil- 
iarity, touching  some  dim  memory  which  failed  to  re- 
spond. Surely  he  had  never  seen  the  original,  for  she 
was  not  one  to  be  easily  forgotten,  and  yet  eyes,  hair, 
expression,  combined  to  remind  him  of  some  one  whom 
he  had  seen  but  could  not  bring  definitely  to  mind. 
There  were  no  names  on  the  locket,  no  marks  of  identi- 
fication of  any  kind,  yet  realizing  the  sacredness  of  it, 


THE  SCENE  OF  TRAGEDY  27 

Keith  slipped  the  fragile  gold  chain  about  his  neck,  and 
securely  hid  the  trinket  beneath  his  shirt. 

It  was  noon  by  this  time,  the  sun  high  overhead,  and 
his  horse,  with  dangling  rein,  still  nibbling  daintily  at 
the  short  grass.  There  was  no  reason  for  his  lingering 
longer.  He  swept  his  gaze  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  desolate  valley,  and  across  the  river  over  the  sand 
hills.  All  alike  appeared  deserted,  not  a  moving  thing 
being  visible  between  the  bluffs  and  the  stream.  Still 
he  had  the  unpleasant  feeling  of  being  watched,  and  it 
made  him  restless  and  eager  to  be  away.  The  earlier 
gust  of  anger,  the  spirit  of  revenge,  had  left  him,  but 
it  had  merely  changed  into  a  dogged  resolution  to  dis- 
cover the  perpetrators  of  this  outrage  and  bring  them 
to  justice  for  the  crime.  The  face  in  the  locket  seemed 
to  ask  it  of  him,  and  his  nature  urged  response.  But 
he  could  hope  to  accomplish  nothing  more  here,  and 
the  plainsman  swung  himself  into  the  saddle.  He 
turned  his  horse's  head  eastward,  and  rode  away. 
From  the  deeply  rutted  trail  he  looked  back  to  where 
the  fire  still  smoked  in  the  midst  of  that  desolate  silence.J 


CHAFFER  III 

AN   ARREST 

THE  Santa  Fe  trail  was  far  too  exposed  to  be 
safely  travelled  alone  and  in  broad  daylight,  but 
Keith  considered  it  better  to  put  sufficient  space  between 
himself  and  those  whom  he  felt  confident  were  still 
watching  his  movements  from  across  the  river.  How 
much  they  might  already  suspicion  his  discoveries  he 
possessed  no  means  of  knowing,  yet,  conscious  of  their 
own  guilt,  they  might  easily  feel  safer  if  he  were  also 
put  out  of  the  way.  He  had  no  anticipation  of  open 
attack,  but  must  guard  against  treachery.  As  he  rode, 
his  eyes  never  left  those  far-away  sand  dunes,  although 
he  perceived  no  movement,  no  black  dot  even  which  he 
could  conceive  to  be  a  possible  enemy.  Now  that  he 
possessed  ample  time  for  thought,  the  situation  became 
more  puzzling.  This  tragedy  which  he  had  accidentally 
stumbled  upon  must  have  had  a  cause  other  than  blind 
chance.  It  was  the  culmination  of  a  plot,  with  some 
reason  behind  more  important  than  ordinary  robbery. 
Apparently  the  wagons  contained  nothing  of  value, 
merely  the  clothing,  provisions,  and  ordinary  utensils 

28 


AN  ARREST  29 

of  an  emigrant  party.  Nor  had  the  victims'  pockets 
been  carefully  searched.  Only  the  mules  had  been  taken 
by  the  raiders,  and  they  would  be  small  booty  for  such 
a  crime. 

The  trail,  continually  skirting  the  high  bluff  and 
bearing  farther  away  from  the  river,  turned  sharply 
Into  a  narrow  ravine.  There  was  a  considerable  break 
In  the  rocky  barrier  here,  leading  back  for  perhaps  a 
hundred  yards,  and  the  plainsman  turned  his  horse  that 
way,  dismounting  when  out  of  sight  among  the  bowlders. 
He  could  rest  here  until  night  with  little  danger  of 
discovery.  He  lay  down  on  the  rocks,  pillowing  his 
head  on  the  saddle,  but  his  brain  was  too  active  to  per- 
mit sleeping.  Finally  he  drew  the  letters  from  out  his 
pocket,  and  began  examining  them.  They  yielded 
very  little  Information,  those  taken  from  the  older  man 
having  no  envelopes  to  show  to  whom  they  had  been 
addressed.  The  single  document  found  in  the  pocket 
of  the  other  was  a  memorandum  of  account  at  the 
Pioneer  Store  at  Topeka,  charged  to  John  Sibley,  and 
marked  paid.  This  then  must  have  been  the  younger 
man's  name,  as  the  letters  to  the  other  began  occasion- 
ally "  Dear  Will."  They  were  missives  such  as  a  wife 
might  write  to  a  husband  long  absent,  yet  upon  a  mis- 
sion of  deep  Interest  to  both.  Keith  could  not  fully 
determine  what  this  mission  might  be,  as  the  persons 


30  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

evidently  understood  each  other  so  thoroughly  that  mere 
allusion  took  the  place  of  detail.  Twice  the  name 
Phyllis  was  mentioned,  and  once  a  "  Fred  "  was  also  re- 
ferred to,  but  in  neither  instance  clearly  enough  to  re- 
veal the  relationship,  although  the  latter  appeared  to 
be  pleaded  for.  Certain  references  caused  the  belief 
that  these  letters  had  been  mailed  from  some  small 
Missouri  town,  but  no  name  was  mentioned.  They 
were  invariably  signed  "  Mary."  The  only  other 
paper  Keith  discovered  was  a  brief  itinerary  of  the  Santa 
Fe  trail  extending  as  far  west  as  the  Raton  Mountains, 
giving  the  usual  camping  spots  and  places  where  water 
was  accessible.  He  slipped  the  papers  back  Into  his 
pocket  with  a  distinct  feeling  of  disappointment,  and 
lay  back  staring  up  at  the  little  strip  of  blue  sky.  The 
silence  was  profound,  even  his  horse  standing  motion- 
less, and  finally  he  fell  asleep. 

The  sun  had  disappeared,  and  even  the  gray  of  twi- 
light was  fading  out  of  the  sky,  when  Keith  returned 
again  to  consciousness,  aroused  by  his  horse  rolling  on 
the  soft  turf.  He  awoke  thoroughly  refreshed,  and 
eager  to  get  away  on  his  long  night's  ride.  A  cold 
lunch,  hastily  eaten,  for  a  fire  would  have  been  dan- 
gerous, and  he  saddled  up  and  was  off,  trotting  out  of 
the  narrow  ravine  and  into  the  broad  trail,  which  could 
be  followed  without  difficulty  under  the  dull  gleam  of 


AN  ARREST  31 

the  stars.  Horse  and  rider  were  soon  at  their  best, 
the  animal  swinging  unurged  into  the  long,  easy  lope  of 
prairie  travel,  the  fresh  air  fanning  the  man's  face  as 
he  leaned  forward.  Once  they  halted  to  drink  from 
a  narrow  stream,  and  then  pushed  on,  hour  after  hour, 
through  the  deserted  night.  Keith  had  little  fear  of 
Indian  raiders  in  that  darkness,  and  every  stride  of 
his  horse  brought  him  closer  to  the  settlements  and  fur- 
ther removed  from  danger.  Yet  eyes  and  ears  were 
alert  to  every  shadow  and  sound.  Once,  it  must  have 
been  after  midnight,  he  drew  his  pony  sharply  back 
into  a  rock  shadow  at  the  noise  of  something  approach- 
ing from  the  east.  The  stage  to  Santa  Fe  rattled 
past,  the  four  mules  trotting  swiftly,  a  squad  of  troopers 
riding  hard  behind.  It  was  merely  a  lumping  shadow 
sweeping  swiftly  past;  he  could  perceive  the  dim  out- 
lines of  driver  and  guard,  the  soldiers  swaying  in  their 
saddles,  heard  the  pounding  of  hoofs,  the  creak  of 
axles,  and  then  the  apparition  disappeared  into  the  black 
void.  He  had  not  called  out  —  what  was  the  use? 
Those  people  would  never  pause  to  hunt  down  prairie 
outlaws,  and  their  guard  was  sufficient  to  prevent  attack. 
They  acknowledged  but  one  duty  —  to  get  the  mail 
through  on  time. 

The  dust  of  their  passing  still  in  the  air,  Keith  rode 
on,  the  noise  dying  away  in  his  rear.     As  the  hours 


32  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

passed,  his  horse  wearied  and  had  to  be  spurred  into 
the  swifter  stride,  but  the  man  seemed  tireless.  The 
sun  was  an  hour  high  when  they  climbed  the  long  hill, 
and  loped  into  Carson  City.  The  cantonment  was  to 
the  right,  but  Keith,  having  no  report  to  make,  rode 
directly  ahead  down  the  one  long  street  to  a  livery  cor- 
ral, leaving  his  horse  there,  and  sought  the  nearest  res- 
taurant. 

Exhausted  by  a  night  of  high  play  and  deep  drink- 
ing the  border  town  was  sleeping  off  Its  debauch,  sa- 
loons and  gambling  dens  silent,  the  streets  almost 
deserted.  To  Keith,  whose  former  acquaintance  with 
the  place  had  been  entirely  after  nightfall,  the  view 
of  it  now  was  almost  a  shock  —  the  miserable  shacks, 
the  gaudy  saloon  fronts,  the  littered  streets,  the  dingy, 
unpainted  hotel,  the  dirty  flap  of  canvas,  the  unoccu- 
pied road,  the  dull  prairie  sweeping  away  to  the  horizon, 
all  composed  a  hideous  picture  beneath  the  sun  glare. 
He  could  scarcely  find  a  man  to  attend  his  horse,  and 
at  the  restaurant  a  drowsy  Chinaman  had  to  be  shaken 
awake,  and  frightened  into  serving  him.  He  sat  down 
to  the  miserable  meal  oppressed  with  disgust  —  never 
before  had  his  life  seemed  so  mean,  useless,  utterly  with- 
out excuse. 

He  possessed  the  appetite  of  the  open,  of  the  normal 
man  in  perfect  physical  health,  and  he  ate  heartily,  his 


AN  ARREST  33 

eyes  wandering  out  of  the  open  window  down  the  long, 
dismal  street.  A  drunken  man  lay  in  front  of  the  "  Red 
Light  "  Saloon  sleeping  undisturbed;  two  cur  dogs  were 
snarling  at  each  other  just  beyond  over  a  bone ;  a  movers' 
wagon  was  slowly  coming  in  across  the  open  through 
a  cloud  of  yellow  dust.  That  was  all  within  the  radius 
of  vision.  For  the  first  time  in  years  the  East  called 
him  —  the  old  life  of  cleanliness  and  respectability. 
He  swore  to  himself  as  he  tossed  the  Chinaman  pay  for 
his  breakfast,  and  strode  out  onto  the  steps.  Two  men 
were  coming  up  the  street  together  from  the  opposite 
direction  —  one  lean,  dark-skinned,  with  black  goatee, 
the  other  heavily  set  with  closely  trimmed  gray  beard. 
Keith  knew  the  latter,  and  waited,  leaning  against  the 
door,  one  hand  on  his  hip. 

"Hullo,  Bob,"  he  said  genially;  "they  must  have 
routed  you  out  pretty  early  to-day," 

"  They  shore  did,  Jack,"  was  the  response.  He 
came  up  the  steps  somewhat  heavily,  his  companion 
stopping  below.  "  The  boys  raise  hell  all  night,  an' 
then  come  ter  me  ter  straighten  it  out  in  the  mawnin'. 
When  did  ye  git  in?  " 

"  An  hour  ago ;  had  to  wake  the  '  chink '  up  to  get 
any  chuck.     Town  looks  dead." 

"  Tain't  over  lively  at  this  time  o'  day,"  permitting 
his  blue  eyes  to  wander  up  the  silent  street,  but  instantly 


34  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

bringing  them  back  to  Keith's  face,  "  but  I  reckon  it  '11 
wake  up  later  on." 

He  stood  squarely  on  both  feet,  and  one  hand  rested 
on  the  butt  of  a  revolver.  Keith  noticed  this,  wonder- 
ing vaguely. 

"  I  reckon  yer  know,  Jack,  as  how  I  ginerally  git 
what  I  goes  after,"  said  the  slow,  drawling  voice,  "  an' 
that  I  draw  'bout  as  quick  as  any  o'  the  boys.  They 
tell  me  yo  're  a  gun-fighter,  but  it  won't  do  ye  no  good 
ter  make  a  play  yere,  fer  one  o'  us  is  sure  to  git  yer  — 
do  yer  sabe?  " 

"  Get  me?"  Keith's  voice  and  face  expressed  aston- 
ishment, but  not  a  muscle  of  his  body  moved.  "  What 
do  you  mean,  Bob  —  are  you  fellows  after  me?" 

"  Sure  thing;  got  the  warrant  here,"  and  he  tapped 
the  breast  of  his  shirt  with  his  left  hand. 

The  color  mounted  into  the  cheeks  of  the  other,  his 
lips  grew  set  and  white,  and  his  gray  eyes  darkened. 

"  Let  it  all  out,  Marshal,"  he  said  sternly,  "  you  've 
got  me  roped  and  tied.     Now  what 's  the  charge?  " 

Neither  man  moved,  but  the  one  below  swung  about 
so  as  to  face  them,  one  hand  thrust  out  of  sight  be- 
neath the  tail  of  his  long  coat. 

"  Make  him  throw  up  his  hands.  Bob,"  he  said 
sharply. 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  thar  ain't  goin'  ter  be  no  trouble," 


AN  ARREST  35 

returned  the  marshal  genially,  yet  with  no  relaxation 
of  attention.  "  Keith  knows  me,  an'  expects  a  fair 
deal.  Still,  maybe  I  better  ask  yer  to  unhitch  yer  belt, 
Jack." 

A  moment  Keith  seemed  to  hesitate,  plainly  puz- 
zled by  the  situation  and  endeavoring  to  see  some  way 
of  escape;  then  his  lips  smiled,  and  he  silently  unhooked 
the  belt,  handing  it  over. 

"  Sure,  I  know  you  're  square.  Hicks,"  he  said, 
coolly.  "  And  now  I  've  unlimbered,  kindly  Inform 
me  what  this  is  all  about." 

"  I  reckon  yer  don't  know." 

*'  No  more  than  an  unborn  babe.  I  have  been  here 
but  an  hour." 

"  That 's  It:  If  yer  had  been  longer  thar  would  n't  be 
no  trouble.  Yo  're  wanted  for  killin'  a  couple  o' 
men  out  at  CImmaron  Crossin'  early  yesterday  mornin'." 

Keith  stared  at  him  too  completely  astounded  for  the 
Instant  to  even  speak.     Then  he  gasped. 

"  For  God's  sake.  Hicks,  do  you  believe  that?" 

"  I  'm  damned  if  I  know,"  returned  the  marshal, 
doubtfully.  "  Don't  seem  like  ye  'd  do  it,  but  the  evi- 
dence is  straight  'nough,  an'  thar  ain't  nothin'  fer  me 
ter  do  but  take  ye  in.     I  ain't  no  jedge  an'  jury." 

"  No,  but  you  ought  to  have  ordinary  sense,  an* 
you  've  known  me  for  three  years." 


36  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  Sure  I  have,  Jack,  but  if  yer  've  gone  wrong,  you 
won't  be  the  first  good  man  I  've  seen  do  it.  Any- 
how, the  evidence  is  dead  agin  you,  an'  I  'd  arrest 
my  own  grand-dad  if  they  give  me  a  warrant  agin 
him." 

"  What  evidence  is  there?  " 

"  Five  men  swear  they  saw  ye  haulin'  the  bodies 
about,  and  lootin'  the  pockets." 

Then  Keith  understood,  his  heart  beating  rapidly, 
his  teeth  clenched  to  keep  back  an  outburst  of  passion. 
So  that  was  their  game,  was  it?  —  some  act  of  his  had 
awakened  the  cowardly  suspicions  of  those  watching 
him  across  the  river.  They  were  afraid  that  he  knew 
them  as  white  men.  And  they  had  found  a  way  to 
safely  muzzle  him.  They  must  have  ridden  hard  over 
those  sand  dunes  to  have  reached  Carson  City  and 
sworn  out  this  warrant.  It  was  a  good  trick,  likely 
enough  to  hang  him,  if  the  fellows  only  stuck  to  their 
story.  All  this  flashed  through  his  brain,  yet  somehow 
he  could  not  clearly  comprehend  the  full  meaning,  his 
mind  confused  and  dazed  by  this  sudden  realization  of 
danger.  His  eyes  wandered  from  the  steady  gaze  of 
the  marshal,  who  had  half  drawn  his  gun  fearing  re- 
sistance, to  the  man  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps.  Sud- 
denly it  dawned  upon  him  where  he  had  seen  that  dark- 
skinned  face,  with  the  black  goatee,  before  —  at  the 


AN  ARREST  37 

faro  table  of  the  "  Red  Light."  He  gripped  his  hands 
together,  instantly  connecting  that  sneering,  sinister  face 
with  the  plot. 

"  Who  swore  out  that  warrant?  " 

"  I  did,  if  you  need  to  know,"  a  sarcastic  smile  re- 
vealing a  gleam  of  white  teeth,  "  on  the  affidavit  of 
others,  friends  of  mine." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  I  'm  mostly  called  '  Black  Bart.'  " 

That  was  it;  he  had  the  name  now  — "  Black  Bart." 
He  straightened  up  so  quickly,  his  eyes  blazing,  that 
the  marshal  jerked  his  gun  clear. 

"  See  here,  Jack,"  shortly,  "  are  yer  goln'  to  raise 
a  row,  or  come  along  quiet?" 

As  though  the  words  had  aroused  him  from  a  bad 
dream,  Keith  turned  to  front  the  stern,  bearded  face. 

"  There  '11  be  no  row,  Bob,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  I  '11 
go  with  you." 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN   OLD   ACQUAINTANCE 

THE  Carson  City  lock-up  was  an  improvised  affair, 
although  a  decidedly  popular  resort.  It  was  origi- 
nally a  two-room  cabin  with  gable  to  the  street,  the 
front  apartment  at  one  time  a  low  groggery,  the  keeper 
sleeping  in  the  rear  room.  .Whether  sudden  death,  or 
financial  reverses,  had  been  the  cause,  the  community 
had  in  some  manner  become  possessed  of  the  property, 
and  had  at  once  dedicated  it  to  the  commonweal.  For 
the  purpose  thus  selected  it  was  rather  well  adapted,  be- 
ing strongly  built,  easily  guarded,  and  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  town.  With  iron  grating  over  the  windows,  the 
back  door  heavily  spiked,  and  the  front  secured  by 
Iron  bars,  any  prisoner  once  locked  within  could 
probably  be  found  when  wanted.  On  the  occasion  of 
Keith's  arrival,  the  portion  abutting  upon  the  street 
was  occupied  by  a  rather  miscellaneous  assembly  — 
the  drunk  and  disorderly  element  conspicuous  —  who 
were  awaiting  their  several  calls  to  appear  before  a 
local  justice  and  make  answer  for  various  misdeeds. 
Some  were  pacing  the  floor,   others  sat  moodily  on 

38 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  39 

benches  ranged  against  the  wall,  while  a  few  were  still 
peacefully  slumbering  upon  the  floor.  It  was  a  frowsy, 
disreputable  crowd,  evincing  but  mild  curiosity  at  the 
arrival  of  a  new  prisoner.  Keith  had  barely  time  to 
glance  about,  recognizing  no  familiarity  of  face  amid 
the  mass  peering  at  him,  as  he  was  hustled  briskly  for- 
ward and  thrust  into  the  rear  room,  the  heavy  door 
closing  behind  him  with  the  snap  of  a  spring  lock. 

He  was  alone,  with  only  the  faintest  murmur  of 
voices  coming  to  him  through  the  thick  partition.  It 
was  a  room  some  twelve  feet  square,  open  to  the  roof, 
with  bare  walls,  and  containing  no  furniture  except  a 
rude  bench.  Still  dazed  by  the  suddenness  of  his  arrest, 
he  sank  down  upon  the  seat,  leaned  his  head  on  his 
hands,  and  endeavored  to  think.  It  was  difficult  to  get 
the  facts  marshalled  Into  any  order  or  to  comprehend 
clearly  the  situation,  yet  little  by  Httle  his  brain  grasped 
the  main  details,  and  he  awoke  to  a  full  realization  of 
his  condition,  of  the  forces  he  must  war  against.  The 
actual  murderers  of  those  two  men  on  the  trail  had 
had  their  suspicions  aroused  by  his  actions;  they  believed 
he  guessed  something  of  their  foul  deed,  and  had  de- 
termined to  clear  themselves  by  charging  the  crime  di- 
rectly against  him.  It  was  a  shrewd  trick,  and  If  they 
only  stuck  to  their  story,  ought  to  succeed.  He  had 
no  evidence,  other  than  his  own  word,  and  the  marshal 


40  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

had  already  taken  from  his  pockets  the  papers  be- 
longing to  the  slain  man.  He  had  not  found  the  locket 
hidden  under  his  shirt,  yet  a  more  thorough  search 
would  doubtless  reveal  that  also. 

Even  should  the  case  come  to  trial,  how  would  it  be 
possible  for  him  to  establish  innocence,  and  —  would 
it  ever  co7ne  to  trial?  Keith  knew  the  character  of 
the  frontier,  and  of  Carson  City.  The  inclination  of 
its  citizens  in  such  cases  was  to  act  first,  and  reflect 
later.  The  law  had  but  slender  hold,  being  respected 
only  when  backed  by  the  strong  hand,  and  primitive 
instincts  were  always  in  the  ascendency,  requiring 
merely  a  leader  to  break  forth  into  open  violence. 
And  in  this  case  would  there  be  any  lack  of  leadership? 
Like  a  flash  his  mind  reverted  to  "  Black  Bart."  There 
was  the  man  capable  of  inciting  a  mob.  If,  for  some 
unknown  reason,  he  had  sufficient  interest  to  swear 
out  the  warrant  and  assist  in  the  arrest,  he  would 
have  equal  cause  to  serve  those  fellows  behind  him  in 
other  ways.  Naturally,  they  would  dread  a  trial,  with 
its  possibility  of  exposure,  and  eagerly  grasp  any  op- 
portunity for  wiping  the  slate  clean.  Their  real  se- 
curity from  discovery  undoubtedly  lay  in  his  death, 
and  with  the  "  Red  Light  "  crowd  behind  them  they 
would  experience  no  trouble  in  getting  a  following  des- 
perate enough  for  any  purpose. 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  41 

The  longer  Keith  thought  the  less  he  doubted  the 
result.  It  was  not  then  a  problem  of  defence,  but  of 
escape,  for  he  believed  now  that  no  opportunity  to  de- 
fend himself  would  ever  be  allowed.  The  arrest  was 
merely  part  of  the  plot  intended  to  leave  him  helpless 
in  the  hands  of  the  mob.  In  this  Hicks  was  in  no 
way  blamable  —  he  had  merely  performed  his  sworn 
duty,  and  would  still  die,  if  need  be,  in  defence  of  his 
prisoner.  He  was  no  tool,  but  only  an  instrument  they 
had  found  means  of  using. 

Keith  was  essentially  a  man  of  action,  a  fighter  by  in- 
stinct, and  so  long  accustomed  to  danger  that  the  ex- 
citement of  it  merely  put  new  fire  into  his  veins.  Now 
that  he  understood  exactly  what  threatened,  all  numb- 
ing feeling  of  hesitancy  and  doubt  vanished,  and  he 
became  instantly  alive.  He  would  not  lie  there  in 
that  hole  waiting  for  the  formation  of  a  mob;  nor 
would  he  trust  in  the  ability  of  the  marshal  to  defend 
him. 

He  had  some  friends  without  —  not  many,  for  he  was 
but  an  occasional  visitor  at  Carson  —  who  would  rally 
to  Hicks's  assistance,  but  there  would  not  be  enough 
on  the  side  of  law  and  order  to  overcome  the  "  Red 
Light "  outfit,  if  once  they  scented  blood.  If  he  was 
to  be  saved  from  their  clutches,  he  must  save  him- 
self; if  his  innocence  was  ever  established  it  would  be 


42  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

by  his  own  exertions  —  and  he  could  accomplish  this 
only  out  yonder,  free  under  the  arch  of  sky. 

He  lifted  his  head,  every  nerve  tingling  with  des- 
perate determination.  The  low  growl  of  voices  was 
audible  through  the  partition,  but  there  was  no  other 
sound.  Carson  City  was  still  resting,  and  there  would 
be  no  crowd  nor  excitement  until  much  later.  Not  until 
nightfall  would  any  attack  be  attempted;  he  had  six 
or  eight  hours  yet  in  which  to  perfect  his  plans.  He 
ran  his  eyes  about  the  room  searching  for  some  spot 
of  weakness.  It  was  dark  back  of  the  bench,  and  he 
turned  in  that  direction.  Leaning  over,  he  looked 
down  on  the  figure  of  a  man  curled  up,  sound  asleep 
on  the  floor.  The  fellow's  limbs  twitched  as  if  in  a 
dream,  otherwise  he  might  have  deemed  him  dead,  as 
his  face  was  buried  in  his  arms.  A  moment  Keith 
hesitated;  then  he  reached  down  and  shook  the  sleeper, 
until  he  aroused  sufficiently  to  look  up.  It  was  the 
face  of  a  coal-black  negro.  An  instant  the  fellow  stared 
at  the  man  towering  over  him,  his  thick  lips  parted,  his 
eyes  full  of  sudden  terror.  Then  he  sat  up,  with  hands 
held  before  him  as  though  warding  off  a  blow. 

"  Fo'   de  Lawd's   sake,"   he  managed  to   articulate 
finally,  "  am  dis  sho'  yo',  Massa  Jack?  " 

Keith,  to  whom  all  colored  people  were  much  alike, 
laughed  at  the  expression  on  the  negro's  face. 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  43 

"  I  reckon  yer  guessed  the  name,  all  right,  boy. 
Were  you  the  cook  of  the  Diamond  L?  " 

"  No,  sah,  I  nebber  cooked  no  di'onds.  I  'se  ol' 
Neb,  sah." 

"What?" 

"  Yes,  sah,  I  'se  de  boy  dat  llbbed  wid  ol'  Missus 
Caton  durin'  de  wah.  I  ain't  seen  yo',  Massa  Jack, 
sence  de  day  we  buried  yo'  daddy,  ol'  Massa  Keith. 
But  I  knowed  yo'  de  berry  minute  I  woke  up.  Sho',  yo' 
'members  Neb,  sah?  " 

It  came  to  Keith  now  in  sudden  rush  of  memory  — 
the  drizzling  rain  in  the  little  cemetery,  the  few 
neighbors  standing  about,  a  narrow  fringe  of  slaves 
back  of  them,  the  lowering  of  the  coffin,  and  the  hol- 
low sound  of  earth  falling  on  the  box;  and  Neb,  his 
Aunt  Caton's  house  servant,  a  black  imp  of  good 
humor,  who  begged  so  hard  to  be  taken  back  with  him 
to  the  war.  Why,  the  boy  had  held  his  stirrup  the  next 
morning  when  he  rode  away.  The  sudden  rush  of  rec- 
ollection seemed  to  bridge  the  years,  and  that  black  face 
became  familiar,  a  memory  of  home. 

"  Of  course,  I  remember,  Neb,"  he  exclaimed, 
eagerly,  "  but  that 's  all  years  ago  and  I  never  ex- 
pected to  see  you  again.  What  brought  you  West  and 
got  you  into  this  hole?  " 

The  negro  hitched  up  onto  the  bench,  the  whites  of 


44  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

his  eyes  conspicuous  as  he  stared  uneasily  about  —  he 
had  a  short,  squatty  figure,  with  excessively  broad 
shoulders,  and  a  face  of  intense  good  humor. 

"  I  reck'n  dat  am  consider'ble  ob  a  story,  Massa 
Jack,  de  circumlocution  ob  which  would  take  a  heap 
ob  time  tellin',"  he  began  soberly.  "  But  it  happened 
'bout  dis  away.  When  de  Yankees  come  snoopin'  long 
de  East  Sho' —  I  reck'n  maybe  it  des  a  yeah  after 
dat  time  when  we  done  buried  de  ol'  Co'nel  —  dey 
burned  Missus  Caton's  house  clah  to  de  groun';  de  ol' 
Missus  was  in  Richmond  den,  an'  de  few  niggers 
left  jest  natchally  took  to  de  woods.  I  went  into  Rich- 
mond huntin'  de  ol'  Missus,  but,  Lawd,  Massa  Jack, 
I  nebber  foun'  nuthin'  ob  her  in  dat  crowd.  Den  an' 
officer  man  done  got  me,  an'  put  me  diggin'  in  de 
trenches.  Ef  dat 's  what  wah  am,  I  sho'  don'  want  no 
mo'  wah.  Den  after  dat  I  jest  natchally  drifted.  I 
reckon  I  libbed  'bout  eberywhar  yo'  ebber  heard  ob,  fo' 
dar  want  no  use  ob  me  goin'  back  to  de  East  Sho'. 
Somebody  said  dat  de  West  am  de  right  place  fo'  a 
nigger,  an'  so  I  done  headed  west." 

He  dropped  his  face  In  his  black  hands,  and  was 
silent  for  some  minutes,  but  Keith  said  nothing,  and 
finally  the  thick  voice  continued : 

**  I  tell  yo',  Massa  Jack,  it  was  mighty  lonely  fo' 
Neb    dem    days.     I    did  n't   know   whar    any   ob   yo' 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  45 

all  was,  an'  it  wan't  no  fun  fo'  dis  nigger  bein'  free 
dat  away.  I  got  out  ter  Independence,  Missouri,  an'  was 
roustaboutin'  on  de  ribber,  when  a  coupple  ob  men  come 
along  what  wanted  a  cook  to  trabbel  wid  'em.  I  took 
de  job,  an'  dat 's  what  fetched  me  here  ter  Carson  City." 

"  But  what  caused  your  arrest?  " 

"A  conjunction  ob  circumstances,  Massa  Jack;  yes, 
sah,  a  conjunction  ob  circumstances.  I  got  playin' 
pokah  ober  in  dat  *  Red  Light,'  an'  I  was  doin'  fine. 
I  reckon  I  'd  cleaned  up  mo'n  a  hundred  dollars  when 
I  got  sleepy,  an'  started  fo'  camp.  I  'd  most  got  dar 
w'en  a  bunch  ob  low  white  trash  jumped  me.  It  made 
me  mad,  it  did  fo'  a  fact,  an'  I  reckon  I  carved  some  ob 
'em  up  befo'  I  got  away.  Ennyhow,  de  marshal  come 
down,  took  me  out  ob  de  tent,  an'  fetched  me  here,  an' 
I  ben  here  ebber  sence.  I  wan't  goin'  ter  let  no  low 
down  white  trash  git  all  dat  money." 

"  What  became  of  the  men  you  were  working  for?  " 

"  I  reckon  dey  went  on,  sah.  Dey  had  'portent 
business,  an'  would  n't  likely  wait  'roun'  here  jest  ter 
help  a  nigger.  Ain't  ennybody  ben  here  ter  see  me,  no- 
how, an'  I  'spects  I  'se  eradicated  from  dey  mem'ry  — 
I  'spects  I  is."  I 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    ONE    WAY 

KEITH  said  nothing  for  some  moments,  staring  up 
at  the  light  stealing  in  through  the  window  grat- 
ing, his  mind  once  again  active.  The  eyes  of  the  black 
man  had  the  patient  look  of  a  dog  as  they  watched;  evi- 
dently he  had  cast  aside  all  responsibility,  now  that  this 
other  had  come.     Finally  Keith  spoke  slowly : 

"  We  are  in  much  the  same  position,  Neb,  and  the 
fate  of  one  is  liable  to  be  the  fate  of  both.  This  is 
my  story  " —  and  briefly  as  possible,  he  ran  over  the 
circumstances  which  had  brought  him  there,  putting 
the  situation  clear  enough  for  the  negro's  understanding, 
without  wasting  any  time  upon  detail.  Neb  followed 
his  recital  with  bulging  eyes,  and  an  occasional  exclama- 
tion.    At  the  end  he  burst  forth : 

"  Yo'  say  dar  was  two  ob  dem  white  men  murdered 
—  one  an  ol'  man  wid  a  gray  beard,  an'  de  odder  'bout 
thirty?  Am  dat  it,  Massa  Jack,  an'  dey  had  fo'  span 
ob  mules,  an'  a  runnin'  boss?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  An'  how  far  out  was  it?  " 

46 


THE  ONE  WAY  47 

"  About  sixty  miles." 

"Oh,  de  good  Lawdl  "  and  the  negro  threw  up 
his  hands  dramatically.  "  Dat  sutt'nly  am  my  outfit! 
Dat  am  Massa  Waite  an'  John  Sibley." 

"  You  mean  the  same  men  with  whom  you  came  here 
from  Independence?  " 

Neb  nodded,  overcome  by  the  discovery. 

"  But  what  caused  them  to  run  such  a  risk?  "  Keith 
insisted.  "  Did  n't  they  know  the  Indians  were  on  the 
war  path?  " 

"Sho';  I  heard  'em  talkin'  'bout  dat,  but  Massa 
Waite  was  jest  boun'  fob  to  git  movin'.  He  did  n't 
'pear  to  be  'fraid  ob  no  Injuns;  reck'ned  dey  'd  nebber 
stop  him,  dat  he  knowed  ebbery  chief  on  de  plains.  I 
reck'n  dat  he  did,  too." 

"  But  what  was  he  so  anxious  to  get  away  for?  " 

"  I  dunno,  Massa,  I  done  heerd  'em  talk  some  'bout 
dey  plans,  an'  'bout  some  gal  dey  wanted  ter  fin',  but  I 
did  n't  git  no  right  sense  to  It.  De  Gin'ral,  he  was  a 
mighty  still  man." 

"The  General?    Whom  do  you  mean  ?    Not  Waite?" 

"  John  Sibley  done  called  him  dat." 

Then  Keith  remembered  —  just  a  dim,  misty  thread 
at  first,  changing  slowly  into  a  clear  recollection.  He 
was  riding  with  despatches  from  Longstreet  to  Stone- 
wall Jackson,  and  had  been  shot  through  the  side.    The 


48  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

first  of  Jackson's  troops  he  reached  was  a  brigade  of 
North  Carolinians,  commanded  by  General  Waite  — 
General  Willis  Waite.  He  had  fallen  from  his  horse 
at  the  outposts,  was  brought  helpless  to  the  General's 
tent,  and  another  sent  on  with  the  papers.  And  Mrs. 
Waite  had  dressed  and  bandaged  his  wound.  That 
was  where  he  had  seen  that  woman's  face  before, 
with  its  haunting  familiarity.  He  drew  the  locket 
from  beneath  his  shirt,  and  gazed  at  the  countenance 
revealed,  with  new  intelligence.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  —  it  was  the  face  of  her  who  had  cared  for 
him  so  tenderly  in  that  tent  at  Manassas  before  the 
fever  came  and  he  had  lost  consciousness.  And  that, 
then,  was  Willis  Waite  lying  in  that  shallow  grave  near 
the  Cimmaron  Crossing,  and  for  whose  death  he  had 
been  arrested.  'T  was  a  strange  world,  and  a  small 
one.  What  a  miserable  ending  to  a  life  like  his  — 
a  division  commander  of  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia,  a  Lieutenant-Governor  of  his  State.  What 
strange  combination  of  circumstances  could  ever  have 
brought  such  a  man  to  this  place,  and  sent  him 
forth  across  those  Indian-scouted  plains?  Surely  noth- 
ing ordinary.  And  why  should  those  border  des- 
peradoes have  followed,  through  sixty  miles  of  desola- 
tion, to  strike  him  down  ?     It  was  not  robbery,  at  least 


THE  ONE  WAY  49 

in  the  ordinary  sense.     What  then?     And  how  was 
''Black   Bart"    involved?     Why   should   he   be   suf- 
ficiently interested  to  swear  out  a  warrant,   and  then 
assist  in  his  arrest?     There  must  be  something  to  all 
this  not  apparent  upon  the  surface  —  some  object,  some 
purpose  shrouded  in  mystery.     No  mere  quarrel,  no 
ordinary  feud,  no  accident  of  meeting,  no  theory  of 
commonplace  robbery,  would  account  for  the  deed,  or 
for  the  desperate  efforts  now  being  made  to  conceal  it. 
Some  way,  these  questions,  thus  surging  upon  him, 
became  a  call  to  live,  to  fight,  to  unravel  their  mystery. 
The  memory  of  that  sweet-faced  woman  who  had  bent 
above  him  when  the  fever  began  its  mastery,  appealed 
to  him  now  with  the  opportunity  of  service.     He  might 
be  able  to  clear  this,  bring  to  her  the  truth,  save  her 
from  despair,  and  hand  over  to  justice  the  murderers 
of  her  husband.     It  was  up  to  him  alone  to  accom- 
plish  this  —  no  one   else  knew   what   he   knew,   sus- 
pected what  he  suspected.     And  there  was  but  one  way 
—  through  escape.     To  remain  there  in  weak  surrender 
to  fate  could  have  but  one  ending,  and  that  swift  and 
sudden.     He  had  no  doubt  as  to  "  Black  Bart's  "  pur- 
pose, or  of  his  ability  to  use  the  "  Red  Light  "  outfit  as 
desired.    The   whole   plan   was    clearly   evident,    and 
there  would  be  no  delay  in  execution  —  all  they  were 
4 


50  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

waiting  for  was  night,  and  a  lax  guard.  He  glanced 
about  at  the  walls  of  the  room,  his  eyes  grown  hard, 
his  teeth  clenched. 

"  Neb,"  he  said  shortly,  "  I  guess  that  was  your  out- 
fit all  right,  but  they  were  not  killed  by  Indians.  They 
were  run  down  by  a  gang  from  this  town  —  the  same 
fellows  who  have  put  you  and  me  in  here.  I  don't  know 
what  they  were  after  —  that 's  to  be  found  out  later, — 
but  the  fight  you  put  up  at  the  camp  spoiled  their  game 
for  once,  and  led  to  your  arrest.  They  failed  to  get 
what  was  wanted  in  Carson,  and  so  they  trailed  the 
party  to  the  Cimmaron  Crossing.  Then  I  got  on  their 
track,  and  fearing  the  result,  they  've  landed  me  also. 
Now  they  '11  get  rid  of  us  both  as  best  they  can. 
These  fellows  won't  want  any  trial  —  that  would  be 
liable  to  give  the  whole  trick  away  —  but  they  have 
got  to  put  us  where  we  won't  talk.  There  is  an  easy 
way  to  do  this,  and  that  is  by  a  lynching  bee.  Do  you 
get  my  drift.  Neb?" 

The  whites  of  the  negro's  eyes  were  very  much  in 
evidence,  his  hands  gripping  at  the  bench  on  which  he 
sat. 

"  Fo'  de  Lawd,  yes,  Massa  Jack,  I  sho'  does.  I 
corroborates  de  whole  thing." 

"  Then  you  are  willing  to  take  a  chance  with  me?  " 

"  Willin' !     Why,    Massa   Jack,    I 'se   overjoyed;    I 


THE  ONE  WAY  51 

ain't  gwlne  leave  yer  no  mo'.  I  'se  sho'  gwine  ter  be 
yo'  nigger.     What  yo'  gwine  ter  do?  " 

Keith  ran  his  eyes  over  the  walls,  carefully  noting 
every  peculiarity. 

"  We  '11  remain  here  quietly  just  as  long  as  it  is 
daylight,  Neb,"  he  replied  finally,  *'  but  we  '11  try  every 
board  and"  every  log  to  discover  some  way  out.  Just 
the  moment  it  grows  dark  enough  to  slip  away  without 
being  seen  we  've  got  to  hit  the  prairie.  Once  south 
of  the  Arkansas  we  're  safe,  but  not  until  then.  Have 
you  made  any  effort  to  get  out?" 

The  negro  came  over  to  him,  and  bent  down. 

*'  I  was  layin'  on  a  board  what  I  'd  worked  loose  at 
one  end,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "  back  ob  de  bench, 
but  I  could  n't  jerk  it  out  wid'out  somethin'  ter  pry  it 
up  wid." 

"Where  Is  it?" 

*'  Right  yere,  Massa  Jack." 

It  was  a  heavy  twelve-inch  plank,  part  of  the  floor- 
ing, and  the  second  from  the  side-wall.  Keith  man- 
aged to  get  a  grip  next  to  the  black  fingers,  and  the 
two  pressed  it  up  far  enough  for  the  white  man  to  run 
one  arm  through  the  opening  up  to  his  shoulder  and 
grope  about  below. 

"  There  's  a  two-foot  space  there,"  he  reported,  as 
they  let  the  board  settle  silently  down  into  position. 


52  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  The  back  part  of  this  building  must  be  set  up  on 
piles.  I  reckon  we  could  pry  that  plank  up  with  the 
bench,  Neb,  but  it 's  liable  to  make  considerable  racket. 
Let 's  hunt  about  first  for  some  other  weak  spot." 

They  crept  across  the  floor,  testing  each  separate 
board,  but  without  discovering  a  place  where  they  could 
exert  a  leverage.  The  thick  planks  were  tightly  spiked 
down.  Nor  did  the  walls  offer  any  better  encourage- 
ment. Keith  lifted  himself  to  the  grated  window, 
getting  a  glimpse  of  the  world  without,  but  finding 
the  iron  immovable,  the  screws  solidly  imbedded  in  the 
outside  wood.  He  dropped  to  the  floor,  feeling  bafiled 
and  discouraged. 

"  It  will  have  to  be  the  plank  back  of  the  bench, 
Neb,"  he  announced  briefly,  wiping  the  perspiration 
from  his  face.  "  Get  down  there,  and  work  it  as  loose 
as  you  can  without  making  any  noise,  while  I  keep  my 
ear  to  the  door  and  listen  for  any  interruption." 

They  took  turns  at  this  labor,  discovering  a  loose 
nail  which  gave  an  opening  purchase  at  the  crack,  thus 
enabling  the  insertion  of  a  small  wooden  block,  and  in- 
suring space  for  a  good  finger  grip  when  the  right  time 
came.  A  sleepy  Mexican  brought  in  their  dinner,  and 
set  it  down  on  the  bench  without  a  word,  but  on  his  re- 
turn with  supper,  the  marshal  accompanied  him,  and  re- 
mained while  they  ate,  talking  to  Keith,  and  staring 


THE  ONE  WAY  53 

about  the  room.  Fortunately,  the  single  window  was 
to  the  west,  and  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  struck  the  op- 
posite wall,  leaving  the  space  behind  the  bench  in  deep 
shadow.  Whatever  might  be  the  plans  of  "  Black 
Bart  "  and  his  cronies,  Keith  was  soon  convinced  they 
were  unknown  to  Hicks,  who  had  evidently  been  de- 
ceived into  thinking  that  this  last  arrest  had  created  no 
excitement. 

"  That 's  why  we  picked  yer  up  so  early,"  he  ex- 
plained, genially.  "  Bart  said  if  we  got  to  yer  afore 
the  boys  woke  up  they  'd  never  hear  nuthin'  'bout  it, 
an'  so  thar  would  n't  be  no  row.  He  did  n't  even  think 
thar  'd  be  enny  need  o'  keepin'  a  special  guard  ter-night, 
but  I  reckon  I  won't  take  no  such  chance  as  that,  an' 
I  '11  have  a  couple  o'  deputies  prowlln'  'round  fer  luck. 
When  Carson  does  wake  up,  she  's  hell." 

He  left  them  tobacco  and  pipes,  and  went  away 
evidently  convinced  that  he  had  performed  his  full  duty. 
The  two  prisoners,  puffing  smoke-rings  into  the  air, 
heard  the  heavy  clang  of  the  iron  bar  falling  Into  place 
across  the  door,  and  sat  looking  Into  one  another's  faces 
through  the  deepening  twilight.  In  the  mind  of  both 
black  and  white  reposed  the  same  thought.  The  negro 
was  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  'Pears  ter  me,  Massa  Jack,  like  dis  yere  Bart  pus- 
son  am  mighty  anxious  ter  hab  no  suspicions  raised." 


54  KEITH  OF  THE  BOKDER 

"  Anybody  but  Hicks  would  see  that,"  acknowledged 
the  other,  the  rings  of  smoke  circling  his  head,  "  but 
he  has  n't  any  brains.  It  was  pure  nerve  that  got  him 
the  job.  Well,  this  is  one  time  that  '  Bart  pusson  '  Is 
going  to  find  an  empty  coop.  We  '11  get  out.  Neb, 
just  as  soon  as  it  gets  dark  enough.  Hicks  is  n't  likely 
to  put  on  his  extra  guard  for  an  hour  yet,  and  the  '  Red 
Light '  bunch  won't  be  fit  for  business  much  before  mid- 
night. By  that  time  we  '11  be  In  the  sand  hills,  head- 
ing south,  able  to  give  them  a  run  for  their  money  — 
we  '11  have  horses,  too,  if  we  can  find  them." 

The  negro's  eyes  shone  white. 

"  Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake,  Massa,"  he  protested,  "  dat  'd 
sho'  be  a  hangin'  job  If  ebber  dey  cotched  us." 

Keith  laughed,  knocking  out  the  ashes  from  his  pipe. 

"  With  an  hour's  start  that  will  be  the  least  of  my 
troubles,"  he  said,  quietly. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    ESCAPE 

IT  was  dark  enough  for  their  purpose  in  half  an  hour, 
the  only  gleam  of  remaining  color  being  the  red 
glow  of  the  negro's  pipe,  even  the  openings  in  the  iron 
grating  being  blotted  from  sight.  Keith,  staring  in  that 
direction,  failed  to  perceive  any  distant  glimmer  o£ 
star,  and  decided  the  night  must  be  cloudy,  and  that  time 
for  action  had  come.  Guided  by  Neb's  pipe  bowl,  he 
touched  the  boy  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Knock  out  your  ashes,  and  shuffle  about  lively  with 
your  feet,  while  I  pry  up  the  board." 

In  spite  of  his  slenderness,  Keith  possessed  unusual 
strength,  yet  no  exertion  on  his  part  served  to  start 
the  loosened  plank  sufficiently  for  their  purpose.  Rip- 
ping a  strip  from  the  bench  he  managed  to  pry  the 
hole  somewhat  larger,  arranging  the  bench  itself  so 
as  to  afford  the  necessary  leverage,  but  even  then  his 
entire  weight  failed  to  either  start  the  spikes,  or  crack 
the  plank.  Some  altercation  began  in  the  other  room, 
the  sound  of  angry  voices  and  shuffling  feet  being  plainly 
audible.     It  was  clear  to   Keith  that  they   must  take 

55 


56  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

the  chance  of  a  noise,  and  no  better  time  than  this 
could  be  chosen. 

"  Here,  Neb,  take  hold  with  me,  and  bear  down  — 
put  your  whole  weight  on  it,  boy." 

The  two  flung  themselves  upon  the  end  of  the  bench, 
leaping  up  and  down  so  as  to  add  weight  to  power. 
Something  had  to  give,  either  the  stout  wood  of  their 
improvised  lever  or  else  the  holding  of  the  plank. 
For  an  instant  it  seemed  likely  to  be  the  former;  then, 
with  a  shrill  screech,  the  long  spikes  yielded  and  the 
board  suddenly  gave.  With  shoulders  inserted  be- 
neath, the  two  men  heaved  it  still  higher,  ramming  the 
bench  below  so  as  to  leave  the  opening  clear.  This  was 
now  sufficiently  ample  for  the  passage  of  a  man's  body, 
and  Keith,  lowering  himself,  discovered  the  earth  to  be 
fully  four  feet  below.  The  negro  instantly  joined  him, 
and  they  began  creeping  about  in  the  darkness,  seeking 
some  way  out.  A  rudely  laid  foundation  of  limestone 
alone  obstructed  their  path  to  the  open  air.  This  had 
been  laid  in  mortar,  but  of  inferior  quality,  so  that 
little  difficulty  was  experienced  in  detaching  sufficient 
to  obtain  hand  hold.  Working  silently,  not  knowing 
what  watchers  might  be  already  stationed  without,  they 
succeeded  in  loosening  enough  of  the  rock  to  allow  them 
to  crawl  through,  lying  breathless  in  the  open.  Ac- 
customed  as   they   were   to   the    darkness,    they   could 


THE  ESCAPE  57 

yet  see  little.  They  were  upon  the  opposite  side  from 
the  town,  with  no  gleam  of  lights  visible,  prairie  and 
sky  blending  together  into  spectral  dimness,  with  no 
sound  audible  but  the  continued  quarrel  in  the  front 
room  of  the  jail.  Keith  crept  along  to  the  end  of 
the  building  from  where  he  could  perceive  the  lights 
of  the  town  twinkling  dimly  through  the  intense  black- 
ness. Evidently  the  regular  evening  saturnalia  had 
not  yet  begun,  although  there  was  already  semblance 
of  life  about  the  numerous  saloons,  and  an  occasional 
shout  punctuated  the  stillness.  A  dog  howled  in 
the  distance,  and  the  pounding  of  swift  hoofs  along  the 
trail  told  of  fresh  arrivals.  An  hour  later  and  the  sin- 
gle street  of  Carson  City  would  be  alive  with  humanity, 
eager  for  any  excitement,  ready  for  any  wild  orgy,  if 
only  once  turned  loose.  That  it  would  be  turned  loose, 
and  also  directed,  the  man  lying  on  his  face  in  the 
grass  felt  fully  assured.  He  smiled  grimly,  wishing 
he  might  behold  "  Black  Bart's  "  face  when  he  should 
discover  the  flight  of  his  intended  victims.  But 
there  was  no  time  to  lose;  every  moment  gained,  added 
to  their  chance  of  safety. 

"  Are  those  horses  tied  there  by  the  blacksmith's 
shop?  "  he  asked,  pointing. 

The  negro  stared  in  the  direction  indicated,  confused 
by  the  shadows  thrown  by  the  dim  lights. 


58  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"I  reck'n  dey  am,  Massa  Jack;  I  done  make  out 
fo'." 

**  Then  two  of  them  must  belong  to  us;  come  on, 
boy." 

He  ran  forward,  crouching  behind  every  chance 
cover,  and  keeping  well  back  behind  the  line  of  shacks. 
A  slight  depression  in  the  prairie  helped  conceal  their 
movements,  and  neither  spoke  until  they  were  crouch- 
ing together  beside  the  wall  of  the  shop.  Then  Neb, 
teeth  chattering,  managed  to  blurt  forth: 

"  Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake,  yer  don't  actually  mean  ter 
steal  dem  bosses?  " 

Keith  glanced  about  at  the  other's  dim,  black  shadow. 

"  Sure  not;  just  borrow  'em." 

"  But  dat  's  a  hangin'  job  in  dis  yere  country,  Massa 
Jack." 

"  Sure  it  is  if  they  catch  us.  But  we  'd  be  strung 
up  anyway,  and  we  can't  be  hung  twice.  Besides  there 
is  a  chance  for  us  with  the  ponies,  and  none  at  all  with- 
out. An  hour's  start  in  the  saddle,  Neb,  and  this  bunch 
back  here  will  never  even  find  our  trail;  I  pledge  you 
that.     Come,  boy,  stay  close  with  me." 

It  was  the  quiet,  confident  voice  of  assured  command, 
of  one  satisfied  with  his  plans,  and  the  obedient  negro, 
breathing  hard,  never  dreamed  of  opposition;  all  in- 
stincts of  slavery  held  him  to  the  dominion  of  this  white 


THE  ESCAPE  59 

master.  Keith  leaned  forward,  staring  at  the  string 
of  deserted  ponies  tied  to  the  rail.  Success  depended 
on  his  choice,  and  he  could  judge  very  little  in  that 
darkness.  Men  were  straggling  in  along  the  street  to 
their  right,  on  foot  and  horseback,  and  the  saloon  on 
the  corner  was  being  well  patronized.  A  glow  of  light 
streamed  forth  from  its  windows,  and  there  was  the 
sound  of  many  voices.  But  this  narrow  alley  was 
deserted,  and  black.  The  fugitive  stepped  boldly  for- 
ward, afraid  that  otherwise  he  might  startle  the  ponies 
and  thus  create  an  alarm.  Guided  by  a  horseman's 
instinct  he  swiftly  ran  his  hands  over  the  animals,  and 
made  quick  selection. 

"  Here,  Neb,  take  this  fellow;  lead  him  quietly  down 
the  bank,"  and  he  thrust  the  loosened  rein  into  the 
black's  hand. 

An  instant  later  he  had  chosen  his  own  mount,  and 
was  silently  moving  in  the  same  direction,  although  the 
night  there  was  so  black  that  the  obedient  negro  had  al- 
ready entirely  vanished.  The  slope  of  the  land  not  only 
helped  cover  their  movements,  but  also  rendered  it  easy 
for  them  to  find  one  another.  Fully  a  hundred  yards 
westward  they  met,  where  a  gully  led  directly  down 
toward  the  river.  There  was  no  longer  need  for  re- 
maining on  foot,  as  they  were  a  sufficient  distance 
away   from  the  little  town   to   feel  no   fear  of  being 


6o  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

discovered,  unless  by  some  drunken  straggler.  At 
Keith's  command  the  negro  climbed  into  his  saddle. 
Both  ponies  were  restive,  but  not  vicious,  and  after  a 
plunge  or  two,  to  test  their  new  masters,  came  easily 
under  control.  Keith  led  the  way,  moving  straight  down 
the  gully,  which  gradually  deepened,  burying  them  in  its 
black  heart,  until  it  finally  debouched  onto  the  river 
sands.  The  riotous  noises  of  the  drunken  town  died 
slowly  away  behind,  the  night  silent  and  dark.  The 
two  riders  could  scarcely  distinguish  one  another  as  they 
drew  rein  at  the  edge  of  the  water.  To  the  southward 
there  gleamed  a  cluster  of  lights,  marking  the  position 
of  the  camp  of  regulars.  Keith  drove  his  horse  deeper 
into  the  stream,  and  headed  northward,  the  negro  fol- 
lowing like  a  shadow. 

There  was  a  ford  directly  opposite  the  cantonment, 
and  another,  more  dangerous,  and  known  to  only  a  few, 
three  miles  farther  up  stream.  Keeping  well  within 
the  water's  edge,  so  as  to  thus  completely  obscure  their 
trail,  yet  not  daring  to  venture  deep  for  fear  of  strik- 
ing quicksand,  the  plainsman  sent  his  pony  struggling 
forward,  until  the  dim  outline  of  the  bank  at  his  right 
rendered  him  confident  that  they  had  attained  the 
proper  point  for  crossing.  He  had  been  that  way  only 
once  before,  and  realized  the  danger  of  attempting  pas- 


THE  ESCAPE  6i 

sage  in  such  darkness,  but  urgent  need  drove  him  for- 
ward. 

"  Follow  me  just  as  close  as  you  can,  boy,"  he  said 
sternly,  "  and  keep  both  your  feet  out  of  the  stirrups. 
If  your  horse  goes  down  hang  to  his  tail,  and  let  him 
swim  out." 

There  was  little  enough  to  guide  by,  merely  a  single 
faint  star  peering  out  from  a  rift  of  the  clouds,  but 
Keith's  remembrance  was  that  the  ford  led  straight  out 
to  the  centre  of  the  stream,  and  then  veered  slightly 
toward  the  right.  He  knew  the  sand  ridge  was  only 
used  by  horsemen,  not  being  wide  enough  for  the  safe 
passage  of  wagons,  but  the  depth  of  the  water  on 
either  side  was  entirely  problematical.  He  was  taking 
a  big  chance,  yet  dare  not  wait  for  daylight.  Summon- 
ing all  his  nerve  and  alertness,  he  urged  his  horse  slowly 
forward,  the  intelligent  animal  seemingly  comprehend- 
ing the  situation,  and  feeling  carefully  for  footing. 
The  actions  of  the  animal  gave  the  rider  greater  con- 
fidence, and  he  loosened  his  grip  on  the  rein,  leaving 
the  pony's  instinct  to  control.  The  latter  fairly  crept 
forward,  testing  the  sand  before  resting  any  weight 
upon  the  hoof,  the  negro's  mount  following  closely. 
The  water  was  unusually  high,  and  as  they  advanced  it 
bore  down  against  them  in  considerable  volume;  then. 


62  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

as  they  veered  to  the  right,  they  were  compelled  to 
push  directly  against  its  weight  In  struggling  toward 
shore.  The  men  could  see  nothing  but  this  solid  sheet 
of  water  rushing  down  toward  them  from  out  the  black 
void,  and  then  vanishing  below.  Once  Keith's  horse 
half  fell,  plunging  nose  under,  yet  gaining  foothold 
again  before  the  rider  had  deserted  his  saddle.  A 
dim  blackness  ahead  already  revealed  the  nearness  of  the 
southern  bank,  when  Neb's  pony  went  down  suddenly, 
swept  fairly  off  Its  legs  by  some  fierce  eddy  In  the  stream. 
Keith  heard  the  negro's  guttural  cry,  and  caught  a 
glimpse  of  him  as  the  two  were  sent  whirling  down. 
The  coiled  rope  of  the  lariat,  grasped  In  his  right  hand, 
was  hurled  forth  like  a  shot,  but  came  back  empty. 
Not  another  sound  reached  him;  his  own  horse  went 
steadily  on,  feeling  his  way,  until  he  was  nose  against 
the  bank,  with  water  merely  rippling  about  his  ankles. 
Keith  driving  feet  again  Into  the  stirrups  headed  him 
down  stream,  wading  close  In  toward  the  shore,  leaning 
forward  over  the  pommel  striving  to  see  through  the 
gloom. 

He  had  no  doubt  about  Neb's  pony  making  land,  un- 
less struck  by  some  driftwood,  or  borne  to  the  centre 
of  the  stream  by  the  shifting  force  of  the  current.  But 
If  Neb  had  failed  to  retain  his  grip  he  might  have  been 
sucked  under  by  the  surge  of  waters.     A  hundred  yards 


THE  ESCAPE  61, 

below  he  found  them,  dripping  and  weak  from  the  strug- 
gle, yet  otherwise  unhurt.  There  were  no  words  spoken, 
but  black  and  white  hands  clasped  silently,  and  then  Neb 
crept  back  into  the  saddle,  shivering  in  his  wet  clothes 
as  the  cool  night  wind  swept  against  him.  Keeping  close 
in  toward  shore,  yet  far  enough  out  so  that  the  water 
would  hide  their  trail,  the  fugitives  toiled  steadily  up 
stream,  guided  only  by  the  black  outline  of  the  low 
bank  upon  their  left. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN    THE    SAND    DESERT 

^UDDENLY  Keith  halted,  bringing  his  pony's 
O  head  sharply  about,  so  that  the  two  faced  one 
another.  The  wind  was  rising,  hurling  clouds  of  sand 
into  their  eyes,  and  the  plainsman  held  one  hand  before 
his  face. 

"  There  's  no  need  of  keeping  up  a  water  trail  any 
longer,"  he  said  quietly.    "  By  all  the  signs  we  're  in 
for  a  sand  storm  by  daylight,  and  that  will  cover  our 
tracks  so  the  devil  himself  could  n't  follow  them.     Got 
a  water  bag  on  your  saddle?  " 
*'  I  reck'n  dis  am  one,  sah." 
Keith  felt  of  the  object  Neb  held  forth. 
"Yes,  and  a  big  one,  too;  fill  it  and  strap  it  on 
tight;  we  've  got  a  long,  dry  ride  ahead." 
"  Whar'  yo'  propose  goin',  Massa  Jack?  " 
"  To  the  '  Bar  X  '  on  the  Canadian.     I  've  worked 
with  that  outfit.    They  '11  give  us  whatever  we  need,  and 
ask  no  questions;  I  don't  know  of  anything  in  between. 
It 's  going  to  be  a  hard  ride,  boy,  and  mighty  little  to 
eat  except  what  I  saved  from  supper." 

64 


IN  THE  SAND  DESERT  65 

"  How  far  am  it  to  dis  yere  '  Bar  X  '?  " 

"  A  hundred  and  fifty  miles  as  the  crow  flies,  and 
sand  all  the  way,  except  for  the  valley  of  Salt  Fork. 
Come  on  now,  and  keep  close,  for  it 's  easy  to  get  lost 
in  these  sand  hills." 

Keith  had  ridden  that  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of 
sandy  desolation  before,  but  had  never  been  called  upon 
to  make  such  a  journey  as  this  proved  to  be.  He  knew 
there  was  little  to  fear  from  human  enemies,  for  they 
were  riding  far  enough  east  of  the  Santa  Fe  trail  to  be 
out  of  the  path  of  raiding  parties,  while  this  desert 
country  was  shunned  by  Indian  hunters.  It  consisted 
of  sand  hill  after  sand  hill,  a  drear  waterless  waste 
where  nothing  grew,  and  amid  the  dread  sameness  of 
which  a  traveller  could  only  find  passage  by  the  guid- 
ance of  stars  at  night  or  the  blazing  sun  by  day.  To 
the  eye  mile  after  mile  appeared  exactly  alike,  with 
nothing  whatever  to  distinguish  either  distance  or  direc- 
tion —  the  same  drifting  ridges  of  sand  stretching 
forth  in  every  direction,  no  summit  higher  than  another, 
no  semblance  of  green  shrubbery,  or  silver  sheen  of 
running  water  anywhere  to  break  the  dull  monotony 
—  a  vast  sandy  plain,  devoid  of  life,  extending  to  the 
horizon,  overhung  by  a  barren  sky. 

They  had  covered  ten  miles  of  it  by  daybreak,  their 
ponies  travelling  heavily,  fetlock  deep,  but  could  ad- 


66  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

vance  no  further.  With  the  first  tint  of  rose  in  the  east 
the  brooding  storm  burst  upon  them  in  wild  desert  fury, 
the  fierce  wind  buffeting  them  back,  lashing  their  faces 
with  sharp  grit  until  they  were  unable  to  bear  the  pain. 
The  flying  sand  smote  them  in  clouds,  driven  with  the 
speed  of  bullets.  In  vain  they  lay  flat,  urging  their 
ponies  forward;  the  beasts,  maddened  and  blinded  by 
the  merciless  lashing  of  the  sand,  refused  to  face  the 
storm.  Keith,  all  sense  of  direction  long  since  lost, 
rolled  wearily  from  the  saddle,  burrowed  under  the 
partial  shelter  of  a  sand  dune,  and  called  upon  Neb 
to  follow  him.  With  their  hands  and  feet  they  made 
a  slight  wind-break,  dragging  the  struggling  ponies  into 
its  protection,  and  burrowed  themselves  there,  the 
clouds  of  sand  skurrying  over  them  so  thick  as  to 
obscure  the  sky,  and  rapidly  burying  them  altogether 
as  though  in  a  grave.  Within  an  hour  they  were 
compelled  to  dig  themselves  out,  yet  it  proved  par- 
tial escape  from  the  pitiless  lashing.  The  wind  howled 
like  unloosed  demons,  and  the  air  grew  cold,  add- 
ing to  the  sting  of  the  grit,  when  some  sudden  eddy 
hurled  it  into  their  hiding  place.  To  endeavor  further 
travel  would  mean  certain  death,  for  no  one  could  have 
guided  a  course  for  a  hundred  feet  through  the  tem- 
pest, which  seemed  to  suck  the  very  breath  away.  To 
the   fugitives  came   this  comfort  —  if  they  could  not 


IN  THE  SAND  DESERT  67 

advance,  then  no  one  else  could  follow,  and  the  storm 
was  completely  blotting  out  their  trail. 

It  was  three  o'clock  before  it  died  sufficiently  down 
for  them  to  venture  out.  Even  then  the  air  remained 
full  of  sand,  while  constantly  shifting  ridges  made 
travel  difficult.  Only  grim  necessity  —  the  suffering 
of  the  ponies  for  water,  and  their  own  need  for  soon 
reaching  the  habitation  of  man  and  acquiring  food  — 
drove  them  to  the  early  venture.  They  must  attain 
the  valley  of  the  Salt  Fork  that  night,  or  else  perish 
in  the  desert  —  there  remained  no  other  choice.  Ty- 
ing neckerchiefs  over  their  horses'  eyes,  and  lying  flat 
themselves,  they  succeeded  in  pressing  slowly  forward, 
winding  in  and  out  among  the  shifting  dunes,  with  only 
the  wind  to  guide  them.  It  was  an  awful  trail,  the 
hoofs  sinking  deep  in  drifting  sand,  the  struggling  po- 
nies becoming  so  exhausted  that  their  riders  finally  dis- 
mounted, and  staggered  forward  on  foot,  leading  them 
stumbling  blindly  after.  Once  the  negro's  horse 
dropped,  and  had  to  be  lashed  to  its  feet  again;  once 
Keith's  pony  stumbled  and  fell  on  him,  hurling  him 
face  down  into  the  sand,  and  he  would  have  died  there, 
lacking  sufficient  strength  to  lift  the  dead  weight,  but  for 
Neb's  assistance.  As  it  was  he  went  staggering  blindly 
forward,  bruised,  and  faint  from  hunger  and  fatigue. 
Neither  man  spoke ;  they  had  no  breath  nor  energy  left 


68  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

to  waste;  every  ounce  of  strength  needed  to  be  con» 
served  for  the  battle  against  nature.  They  were  fight- 
ing for  life;  fighting  grimly,  almost  hopelessly,  and 
alone. 

About  them  night  finally  closed  in,  black  and  starless, 
yet  fortunately  with  a  gradual  dying  away  of  the  storm. 
For  an  hour  past  they  had  been  struggling  on,  doubt- 
ing their  direction,  wondering  dully  if  they  were  not 
lost  and  merely  drifting  about  in  a  circle.  They  had 
debated  this  fiercely  once,  the  ponies  standing  deject- 
edly, tails  to  the  storm.  Neb  arguing  that  the  wind 
still  blew  from  the  south,  and  Keith  contending  it  had 
shifted  into  the  westward.  The  white  man  won  his 
way,  and  they  staggered  on  uncertain,  the  negro  grasp- 
ing the  first  pony's  tail  to  keep  from  being  separated 
from  his  companion.  Some  instinct  of  the  plains  must 
have  guided  them,  for  at  last  they  dragged  themselves 
out  from  the  desert,  the  crunching  sand  under  foot 
changing  into  rock,  and  then  to  short  brittle  grass,  at 
which  the  ponies  nibbled  eagerly.  The  slope  led  grad- 
ually downward,  the  animals  scenting  water,  and  strug- 
gling to  break  away.  Swaying  in  their  saddles,  the  rid- 
ers let  them  go,  and  they  never  stopped  until  belly  deep 
in  the  stream,  their  noses  buried.  The  men  shivered  in 
their  saddles,  until,  at  last  satisfied,  the  ponies  consented 
to  be  forced  back  up  the  bank,  where  they  nibbled  at 


IN  THE  SAND  DESERT  69 

the  short  tufts  of  herbage,  but  in  a  manner  expressive 
of  weariness.  Keith  flung  himself  on  the  ground,  every 
muscle  of  his  body  aching,  his  exposed  flesh  still  smart- 
ing from  the  hail  of  sand  through  which  they  had 
passed. 

He  had  not  the  slightest  conception  as  to  where  they 
were,  except  he  knew  this  must  be  the  Salt  Fork.  Ut- 
terly confused  by  the  maze  of  shifting  dunes,  through 
whose  intricacies  they  had  somehow  found  passage,  the 
blackness  of  the  night  yielded  no  clue  as  to  their  point 
of  emergence.  The  volume  of  water  in  the  stream 
alone  suggested  that  in  their  wanderings  they  must  have 
drifted  to  the  eastward,  and  come  out  much  lower  down 
than  had  been  originally  intended.  If  so,  then  they 
might  be  almost  directly  south  of  Carson  City,  and  in 
a  section  with  which  he  was  totally  unacquainted. 
One  thing  was,  however,  certain  —  they  would  be  com- 
pelled to  wait  for  daylight  to  ascertain  the  truth,  and 
decide  upon  their  future  movements.  There  was  an- 
other barren,  sandy  stretch  of  desolation  lying  between 
this  isolated  valley  and  that  of  the  Canadian,  and  their 
horses  would  never  stand  to  be  pushed  forward  with- 
out both  rest  and  food.  As  to  themselves  —  they  had 
eaten  their  last  crumb  long  since,  but  this  was  not  the 
first  time  both  had  known  starvation. 

Keith  arose   reluctantly,   and  removed  the   saddles 


70  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

from  the  animals,  hobbling  them  so  they  could  graze 
at  will.  Neb  was  propped  up  beneath  an  out-cropping 
of  the  bank,  which  partly  protected  him  from  the  wind, 
a  mere  hulk  of  a  shadow.  Keith  could  not  tell  whether 
he  slept  or  not,  but  made  no  effort  to  disturb  him.  A 
moment  he  stared  vacantly  about  into  the  black  silence, 
and  then  lay  down,  pillowing  his  head  upon  a  saddle. 
He  found  it  impossible  to  sleep,  the  chill  of  the  wind 
causing  him  to  turn  and  twist,  in  vain  search  after 
comfort,  while  unappeased  hunger  gnawed  incessantly. 
His  eyes  ranged  about  over  the  dull  gloom  of  the  skies 
until  they  fell  again  to  the  earth  level,  and  then  he 
suddenly  sat  up,  half  believing  himself  in  a  dream  — 
down  the  stream,  how  far  away  he  could  not  judge, 
there  gleamed  a  steady,  yellowish  light.  It  was  no 
flicker  of  a  camp  fire,  yet  remained  stationary.  Surely 
no  star  could  be  so  low  and  large;  nor  did  he  recall 
any  with  that  peculiarity  of  color.  If  such  a  miracle 
was  possible  in  the  heart  of  that  sandy  desert  he  would 
have  sworn  it  was  a  lamp  shining  through  a  window. 
But  he  had  never  heard  of  any  settler  on  the  Salt  Fork, 
and  almost  laughed  at  the  thought,  believing  for  the 
instant  his  brain  played  him  some  elfish  trick.  Yet 
that  light  was  no  illusion;  he  rubbed  his  eyes,  only  to 
see  it  more  clearly,  convinced  now  of  its  reality.  He 
strode   hastily   across,    and   shook   Neb   Into   semi-con- 


IN  THE  SAND  DESERT  71 

sciousness,  dragging  him  bodily  up  the  bank  and  point- 
ing down  stream. 

"  Do  you  see  that?  "  he  inquired  anxiously.  "  There, 
straight  ahead  of  you?  " 

The  negro  stared,  shaking  with  cold,  and  scarcely 
able  to  stand  alone. 

"  Maybe  it  am  de  moon,  Massa  Jack,"  he  muttered 
thickly,  "  or  a  goblin's  lantern.  Lawd,  I  don't  jest  like 
de  looks  ob  dat  ting." 

"  Well,  I  do,"  and  Keith  laughed  uneasily  at  the 
negro's  fears.  "  All  I  wanted  to  know  was  if  you  saw 
what  I  saw.  That 's  a  lamp  shining  through  a  win- 
dow. Neb.  What  in  heaven's  name  it  can  be  doing 
here  I  am  unable  to  guess,  but  I'm  going  to  find  out. 
It  means  shelter  and  food,  boy,  even  if  we  have  to  fight 
for  it.  Come  on,  the  horses  are  safe,  and  we  '11  dis- 
cover what  is  behind  that  light  yonder." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    WILDERNESS    CABIN 

THE  light  was  considerably  farther  away  than  they 
had  at  first  supposed,  and  as  they  advanced 
steadily  toward  it,  the  nature  of  the  ground  rapidly 
changed,  becoming  Irregular,  and  littered  with  low 
growing  shrubs.  In  the  darkness  they  stumbled  over 
outcroppings  of  rock,  and  after  a  fall  or  two,  were 
compelled  to  move  forward  with  extreme  caution. 
But  the  mysterious  yellow  glow  continually  beckoned, 
and  with  new  hope  animating  the  hearts  of  both  men, 
they  staggered  on,  nerving  themselves  to  the  effort,  and 
following  closely  along  the  bank  of  the  stream. 

At  last  they  arrived  where  they  could  perceive 
dimly  something  of  the  nature  of  this  unexpected  desert 
oasis. 

The  light  shone  forth,  piercing  the  night,  through 
the  uncurtained  window  of  a  log  cabin,  which  would 
otherwise  have  been  completely  concealed  from  view 
by  a  group  of  low  growing  cottonwoods.  This  was 
all  the  black,  enshrouding  night  revealed,  and  even  this 
was  merely  made  apparent  by  the  yellow  illumination 

72 


THE  WILDERNESS  CABIN  73 

of  the  window.  The  cabin  stood  upon  an  island,  a 
strip  of  sand,  partially  covered  by  water,  separating  it 
from  the  north  shore  on  which  they  stood.  There  was 
no  sign  of  life  about  the  hut,  other  than  the  burning 
lamp,  but  that  alone  was  sufficient  evidence  of  occu- 
pancy. In  spite  of  hunger,  and  urgent  need,  Keith 
hesitated,  uncertain  as  to  what  they  might  be  called 
upon  to  face.  Who  could  be  living  in  this  out-of-the- 
way  spot,  in  the  heart  of  this  inhospitable  desert?  It 
would  be  no  cattle  outpost  surely,  for  there  was  no 
surrounding  grazing  land,  while  surely  no  professional 
hunter  would  choose  such  a  barren  spot  for  head- 
quarters. Either  a  hermit,  anxious  to  escape  all  inter- 
course with  humanity,  or  some  outlaw  hiding  from  ar- 
rest, would  be  likely  to  select  so  isolated  a  place  in 
which  to  live.  To  them  it  would  be  ideal.  Away 
from  all  trails,  where  not  even  widely  roving  cattlemen 
would  penetrate,  in  midst  of  a  desert  avoided  by  In- 
dians because  of  lack  of  game, —  a  man  might  hide 
here  year  after  year  without  danger  of  discovery. 
Yet  such  a  one  would  not  be  likely  to  welcome  their 
coming,  and  they  were  without  arms.  But  Keith  was 
not  a  man  to  hesitate  long  because  of  possible  danger, 
and  he  stepped  down  into  the  shallow  water. 

"  Come  on.  Neb,"  he  commanded,  "  and  we  '11  find 
out  who  lives  here." 


74  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

The  window  faced  the  west,  and  he  came  up  the  low 
bank  to  where  the  door  fronted  the  north  in  intense 
darkness.  Under  the  shadow  of  the  cottonwoods  he 
could  see  nothing,  groping  his  way,  with  hands  ex- 
tended. His  foot  struck  a  flat  stone,  and  he  plunged 
forward,  striking  the  unlatched  door  so  heavily  as  to 
swing  it  open,  and  fell  partially  forward  into  the 
room.  As  he  struggled  to  his  knees,  Neb's  black  face 
peering  past  him  into  the  lighted  interior,  he  seemed 
to  perceive  in  one  swift,  comprehensive  glance,  every 
revealed  detail.  A  lamp  burned  on  a  rudely  con- 
structed set  of  drawers  near  the  window,  and  a  wood 
fire  blazed  redly  in  a  stone  fireplace  opposite,  the  yel- 
low and  red  lights  blending  in  a  peculiar  glow  of  color. 
Under  this  radiance  were  revealed  the  rough  log  walls, 
plastered  with  yellow  clay,  and  hung  about  with  the 
skins  of  wild  animals,  a  roughly  made  table,  bare  ex- 
cept for  a  book  lying  upon  it,  and  a  few  ordinary  ap- 
pearing boxes,  evidently  utilized  as  seats,  together  with 
a  barrel  cut  so  as  to  make  a  comfortable  chair.  In 
the  back  wall  was  a  door,  partially  open,  apparently 
leading  into  a  second  room.  That  was  all,  except  the 
woman. 

Keith  must  have  perceived  all  these  in  that  first  hur- 
ried glance,  for  they  were  ever  after  closely  associated 
together  in  his  mind,  yet  at  the  moment  he  possessed 


THE  WILDERNESS  CABIN  75 

no  clear  thought  of  anything  except  her.  She  stood 
directly  behind  the  table,  where  she  must  have  sprung 
hastily  at  the  first  sound  of  their  approach,  clutching 
at  the  rude  mantel  above  the  fireplace,  and  staring  to- 
ward him,  her  face  white,  her  breath  coming  in  sobs. 
At  first  he  thought  the  vision  a  dream,  a  delirium  born 
from  his  long  struggle;  he  could  not  conceive  the  pos- 
sibility of  such  a  presence  In  this  lonely  place,  and 
staggering  to  his  feet,  gazed  wildly,  dumbly  at  the 
slender,  gray  clad  figure,  the  almost  girlish  face  under 
the  shadowing  dark  hair,  expecting  the  marvellous  vis- 
Ion  to  vanish.  Surely  this  could  not  be  real !  A 
woman,  and  such  a  woman  as  this  here,  and  alone,  of  all 
places!  He  staggered  from  weakness,  almost  terror, 
and  grasped  the  table  to  hold  himself  erect.  The  rising 
wind  came  swirling  in  through  the  open  door,  causing 
the  fire  to  send  forth  spirals  of  smoke,  and  he  turned, 
dragging  the  dazed  negro  within,  and  snapping  the 
latch  behind  him.  When  he  glanced  around  again  he 
fully  believed  the  vision  confronting  him  would  have 
vanished.  But  no !  there  she  yet  remained,  those  wide- 
open,  frightened  brown  eyes,  with  long  lashes  half  hid- 
ing their  depths,  looking  directly  into  his  own;  only 
now  she  had  slightly  changed  her  posture,  leaning  to- 
ward him  across  the  table.  Like  a  flash  he  compre- 
hended that  this  was  reality  —  flesh  and  blood  —  and, 


76  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

with  the  swift  instinct  of  a  gentleman,  his  numbed, 
nerveless  fingers  jerked  off  his  hat,  and  he  bowed  bare- 
headed before  her. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  finding  his  voice  with  diffi- 
culty. "  I  fell  over  the  step,  but  —  but  I  did  n't  ex- 
pect to  find  a  woman  here." 

He  heard  her  quick  breathing,  marked  a  slight 
change  in  the  expression  of  the  dark  eyes,  and  caught 
the  glitter  of  the  firelight  on  a  revolver  in  her  lowered 
hand. 

"  What  did  you  expect  to  find?  " 

"I  hardly  knew,"  he  explained  lamely;  "we  stum- 
bled on  this  hut  by  accident.  I  did  n't  know  there  was 
a  cabin  in  all  this  valley." 

"  Then  you  are  not  here  for  any  purpose  ?  to  meet 
with  any  one?  " 

"No;  we  were  lost,  and  had  gone  into  camp  up 
above,  when  we  discovered  your  light." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from?  " 

Keith  hesitated  just  an  instant,  yet  falsehood  was 
never  easy  for  him,  and  he  saw  no  occasion  for  any  de- 
ceit now. 

"  Carson  City." 

"  What  brought  you  here?  " 

"  We  started  for  the  '  Bar  X  '  Ranch  down  below, 
on  the  Canadian;  got  caught  in  a  sand-storm,  and  then 


THE  WILDERNESS  CABIN  77 

just  drifted.  I  do  not  know  within  twenty  miles  of 
where  we  are." 

She  drew  a  deep  breath  of  unconcealed  relief. 

*'  Are  you  alone?  " 

"  The  negro  and  I  —  yes ;  and  you  have  n't  the  slight- 
est reason  to  be  afraid  of  us  —  we  're  square." 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly,  and  something  in 
Keith's  clean-cut  face  seemed  to  bring  reassurance,  con- 
fidence in  the  man. 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  answered,  coming  toward 
him  around  the  short  table.  "  Only  it  is  so  lonely  here, 
and  you  startled  me,  bursting  in  without  warning.  But 
you  look  all  right,  and  I  am  going  to  believe  your  story. 
What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Keith  —  Jack  Keith." 

"  A  cowman?  " 

"  A  little  of  everything,  I  reckon,"  a  touch  of  re- 
turning bitterness  in  the  tone.  "  A  plainsman,  who  has 
punched  cattle,  but  my  last  job  was  government  scout." 

"  You  look  as  though  you  might  be  more  than  that," 
she  said  slowly. 

The  man  flushed,  his  lips  pressing  tightly  together. 

"  Well,  I  —  I  may  have  been,"  he  confessed  un- 
willingly. "  I  started  out  all  right,  but  somehow  I 
reckon  I  just  went  adrift.     It 's  a  habit  in  this  country." 

Apparently  those  first  words  of  comment  had  left 


78  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

her  lips  unthinkingly,  for  she  made  no  attempt  to  re- 
ply; merely  stood  there  directly  facing  him,  her  clear 
eyes  gazing  frankly  into  his  own.  He  seemed  to  ac- 
tually see  her  now  for  the  first  time,  fairly  —  a  supple, 
slender  figure,  simply  dressed,  with  wonderfully  ex- 
pressive brown  eyes,  a  perfect  wealth  of  dark  hair,  a 
clear  complexion  with  slight  olive  tinge  to  it,  a  strong, 
intelligent  face,  not  strictly  beautiful,  yet  strangely 
attractive,  the  forehead  low  and  broad,  the  nose 
straight,  the  lips  full  and  Inclined  to  smile.  Suddenly 
a  vague  remembrance  brought  recognition. 

"  Why,  I  know  you  now." 

"Indeed!"  the  single  word  a  note  of  undisguised 
surprise. 

"Yes;  I  thought  you  looked  oddly  familiar  all  the 
time,  but  couldn't  for  the  hfe  of  me  connect  up. 
You  're  Christie  Maclalre." 

"  Am  I  ?  "  her  eyes  filled  with  curiosity. 

"  Of  course  you  are.  You  need  n't  be  afraid  of  me 
if  you  want  It  kept  secret,  but  I  know  you  just  the  same. 
Saw  you  at  the  '  Gaiety '  In  Independence,  maybe  two 
months  ago.  I  went  three  times,  mostly  on  your  ac- 
count.    You  've  got  a  great  act,  and  you  can  sing  too." 

She  stood  In  silence,  still  looking  fixedly  at  him,  her 
bosom  rising  and  falling,  her  lips  parted  as  if  to  speak. 


THE  WILDERNESS  CABIN  79 

Apparently  she  did  not  know  what  to  do,  how  to  act, 
and  was  thinking  swiftly. 

"  Mr.  Keith,"  she  said,  at  last  in  decision,  "  I  am 
going  to  ask  you  to  blot  that  all  out  —  to  forget  that 
you  even  suspect  me  of  being  Christie  Maclaire,  of  the 
Gaiety." 

"  Why,  certainly;  but  would  you  explain?  " 

"  There  is  little  enough  to  explain.  It  is  sufficient 
that  I  am  here  alone  with  you.  Whether  I  wish  to 
or  not,  I  am  compelled  to  trust  myself  to  your  protec- 
tion. You  may  call  me  Christie  Maclaire,  or  any- 
thing else  you  please ;  you  may  even  think  me  unworthy 
respect,  but  you  possess  the  face  of  a  gentleman,  and 
as  such  I  am  going  to  trust  you  —  I  must  trust  you. 
Will  you  accept  my  confidence  on  these  terms?  " 

Keith  did  not  smile,  nor  move.  Weak  from  hunger 
and  fatigue,  he  leaned  wearily  against  the  wall. 
Nevertheless  that  simple,  womanly  appeal  awoke  all 
that  was  strong  and  sacrificing  within  him,  although 
her  words  were  so  unexpected  that,  for  the  moment, 
he  failed  to  realize  their  full  purport.  Finally  he 
straightened  up. 

"I  —  I  accept  any  terms  you  desire,"  he  gasped 
weakly,  "  if  —  if  you  will  only  give  one  return." 

"One  return?  —  what?" 


8o  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

*'  Food;  we  have  eaten  nothing  for  sixty  hours." 
Her  face,  which  had  been  so  white,  flushed  to  the 

hair,  her  dark  eyes  softening. 

"  Why,  of  course ;  sit  down.     I  ought  to  have  known 

from  your   face.     There   is  plenty  here  —  such  as   it 

is  —  only  you  must  wait  a  moment." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   GIRL   OF   THE   CABIN 

HE  saw  Neb  drop  down  before  the  blazing  fire- 
place, and  curl  up  like  a  tired  dog,  and  observed 
her  take  the  lamp,  open  the  door  Into  the  other  room 
a  trifle,  and  slip  silently  out  of  sight.  He  remembered 
staring  vaguely  about  the  little  room,  still  illumined 
by  the  flames,  only  half  comprehending,  and  then  the 
reaction  from  his  desperate  struggle  with  the  elements 
overcame  all  resolution,  and  he  dropped  his  head  for- 
ward on  the  table,  and  lost  consciousness.  Her  hand 
upon  his  shoulder  aroused  him,  startled  Into  wakeful- 
ness, yet  he  scarcely  realized  the  situation. 

"  I  have  placed  food  for  the  negro  beside  him," 
she  said  quietly,  and  for  the  first  time  Keith  detected 
the  soft  blur  In  her  speech. 

"  You  are  from  the  South!  "  he  exclaimed,  as  though 
it  was  a  discovery. 

"Yes  — and  you?" 

"  My  boyhood  began  In  Virginia  —  the  negro  was 
an  old-time  slave  In  our  family." 
6  8i 


82  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

She  glanced  across  at  the  black,  now  sitting  up  and 
eating  voraciously. 

"  I  thought  he  had  once  been  a  slave;  one  can  easily 
tell  that.  I  did  not  ask  him  to  sit  here  because,  if 
you  do  not  object,  we  will  eat  here  together.  I  have 
also  been  almost  as  long  without  food.  It  was  so  lonely 
here,  and  —  and  I  hardly  understood  my  situation  — 
and  I  simply  could  not  force  myself  to  eat." 

He  distinguished  her  words  clearly  enough,  although 
she  spoke  low,  as  If  she  preferred  what  was  said  between 
them  should  not  reach  the  ears  of  the  negro,  yet  some- 
how, for  the  moment,  they  made  no  adequate  Impres- 
sion on  him.  Like  a  famished  wolf  he  began  on  the 
coarse  fare,  and  for  ten  minutes  hardly  lifted  his  head. 
Then  his  eyes  chanced  to  meet  hers  across  the  narrow 
table,  and  instantly  the  gentleman  within  him  reawoke 
to  life. 

"  I  have  been  a  perfect  brute,"  he  acknowledged 
frankly,  "  with  no  thought  except  for  myself.  Hun- 
ger was  my  master,  and  I  ask  your  forgiveness.  Miss 
Maclalre." 

Her  eyes  smiled. 

"  I  am  so  very  glad  to  have  any  one  here  —  any  one 
—  In  whom  I  feel  even  a  little  confidence  —  that  noth- 
ing else  greatly  matters.  Can  you  both  eat,  and  lis- 
ten?" 


THE  GIRL  OF  THE  CABIN  83 

Keith  nodded,  his  eyes  full  of  interest,  searching  her 
face. 

"  Whoever  I  may  be,  Mr.  Keith,  and  really  that 
seems  only  of  small  importance,  I  came  to  Fort  Earned 
seeking  some  trace  of  my  only  brother,  whom  we  last 
heard  from  there,  where  he  had  fallen  into  evil  com- 
panionship. On  the  stage  trip  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
form  an  acquaintance  with  a  man  who  told  me  he  knew 
where  I  could  meet  Fred,  but  that  the  boy  was  hiding 
because  of  some  trouble  he  had  lately  gotten  into,  and 
that  I  should  have  to  proceed  very  carefully  so  as  not 
to  lead  the  officers  to  discover  his  whereabouts.  This 
gentleman  was  engaged  in  some  business  at  Carson  City, 
but  he  employed  a  man  to  bring  me  to  this  place,  and 
promised  to  get  Fred,  and  meet  me  here  the  following 
day.  There  must  have  been  some  failure  in  the  plans, 
for  I  have  been  here  entirely  alone  now  for  three  days. 
It  has  been  very  lonesome,  and  —  and  I  've  been  a  httle 
frightened.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  come,  and 
I  am  not  certain  what  kind  of  a  place  this  is.  I  was  so 
afraid  when  you  came,  but  I  am  not  afraid  now." 

"  You  have  no  need  to  be,"  he  said  soberly,  im- 
pressed by  the  innocent  candor  of  the  girl,  and  feeling 
thankful  that  he  was  present  to  aid  her.  "  I  could  not 
wrong  one  of  the  South." 

"  My  father  always  told  me  I  could  trust  a  Southern 


84  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

gentleman  under  any  circumstance.  Mr,  Hawley  was 
from  my  own  State,  and  knew  many  of  our  old  friends. 
That  was  why  I  felt  such  unusual  confidence  in  him, 
although  he  was  but  a  travelling  acquaintance." 

"Mr.  Hawley?" 
"  The  gentleman  whom  I  met  on  the  stage." 

"Oh,  yes;  you  said  he  was  in  business  in  Carson 
City,  but  I  don't  seem  to  remember  any  one  of  that 
name." 

"He  was  not  there  permanently;  only  to  complete 
some  business  deal." 

"And  your  brother?  I  may  possibly  have  known 
him." 

She  hesitated  an  instant,  her  eyes  dropping,  until 
completely  shaded  by  the  long  lashes. 

"He  —  he  was  rather  a  wild  boy,  and  ran  away 
from  home  to  enlist  in  the  army.  But  he  got  into  a 
bad  set,  and  —  and  deserted.  That  was  part  of  the 
trouble  which  caused  him  to  hide.  He  enlisted  under 
the  name  of  Fred  Willoughby.  Mr.  Hawley  told  me 
this  much,  but  I  am  afraid  he  did  not  tell  me  all." 

"  And  he  said  you  would  meet  him  here?  " 

Keith  gazed  about  on  the  bare  surroundings  wonder- 
ingly.  What  was  this  place,  hidden  away  in  the  midst 
of  the  desert,  isolated  in  a  spot  where  not  even  Indians 
roamed.     Could  it  be  a  secret  rendezvous  of  crime, 


THE  GIRL  OF  THE  CABIN  85 

the  headquarters  of  desperadoes,  of  cattle-rustlers,  of 
highwaymen  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  —  a  point  to  which 
they  could  ride  when  hard  pressed,  certain  of  hiding 
here  in  safety?  He  began  to  suspect  this,  but,  if  so, 
who  then  was  this  Hawley,  and  with  what  objeci  had 
he  sent  this  girl  here?  Every  way  he  turned  was  to 
confront  mystery,  to  face  a  new  puzzle.  Whatever 
she  might  be  —  even  the  music  hall  singer  he  believed 
—  she  had  been  inveigled  here  innocently  enough. 
Even  now  she  possessed  only  the  most  vague  suspicion 
that  she  had  been  deceived.  The  centre  of  the  whole 
plot,  if  there  was  a  plot,  must  be  Hawley. 

*'  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  he  said  that  this  was  one  of 
the  stations  of  a  big  ranch  on  which  Fred  was  employed, 
and  that  he  would  certainly  be  here  within  a  day  or 
two." 

"You  met  Hawley  on  the  stage  coach?  How  did 
you  become  acquainted?  " 

"  We  were  alone  for  nearly  fifty  miles,"  her  voice 
faltering  slightly,  "  and  —  and  he  called  me  what  you 
did." 

"Christie  Maclaire?" 

"  Yes;  he  —  he  seemed  to  think  he  knew  me,  and 
I  needed  help  so  much  that  I  let  him  believe  so.  I 
thought  it  could  do  no  harm,  and  then,  when  I  found 
he  actually  knew  Fred,  I  did  n't  think  of  anything  else. 


86  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

only  how  fortunate  I  was  to  thus  meet  him.  Surely 
something  serious  must  have  happened,  or  he  would 
have  been  here  before  this.  Do  you  —  do  you  sup- 
pose there  is  anything  wrong?  " 

Keith  did  not  smile  nor  change  posture.  The  more 
he  delved  into  the  matter,  the  more  serious  he  felt  the 
situation  to  be.  He  knew  all  those  ranches  lying  south 
on  the  Canadian,  and  was  aware  that  this  was  no  out- 
station.  No  cattle  ever  came  across  that  sandy  desert 
unless  driven  by  rustlers,  and  no  honest  purpose  could 
account  for  this  isolated  hut.  There  had  been  fre- 
quent robberies  along  the  trail,  and  he  had  overheard 
tales  of  mysterious  disappearances  In  both  Earned  and 
Carson  City.  Could  it  be  that  he  had  now,  acciden- 
tally, stumbled  upon  the  rendezvous  of  the  gang?  He 
was  not  a  man  easily  startled,  but  this  thought  sent  his 
heart  beating.  He  knew  enough  to  realize  what  such 
a  gang  would  naturally  consist  of  —  deserters,  out- 
laws, rustlers ;  both  Indians  and  whites,  no  doubt,  com- 
bined under  some  desperate  leadership.  Gazing  into 
the  girl's  questioning  eyes  he  could  scarcely  refrain 
from  blurting  out  all  he  suspected.  Yet  why  should 
he?  What  good  could  it  do?  He  could  not  hope  to 
bear  her  south  to  the  "  Bar  X  "  Ranch,  for  the  po- 
nies were  already  too  thoroughly  exhausted  for  such  a 
journey;  he  dared  not  turn  north  with  her,   for  that 


THE  GIRL  OF  THE  CABIN  87 

would  mean  his  own  arrest,  leaving  her  in  worse  con- 
dition than  ever.  If  he  only  knew  who  this  man 
Hawley  was,  his  purpose,  and  plans!  Yet  what  pro- 
tection could  he  and  Neb  prove,  alone  here,  and  with- 
out arms?  All  this  flashed  througli  his  mind  in  an 
instant,  leaving  him  confused  and  uncertain. 

"  I  hope  not,"  he  managed  to  say  in  answer  to  her 
query.  "  But  It  is  rather  a  strange  mix-up  all  around, 
and  I  confess  I  fail  to  comprehend  its  full  meaning. 
It  is  hardly  likely  your  friends  will  show  up  to-night, 
and  by  morning  perhaps  we  can  decide  what  is  best  to 
do.    Let  me  look  around  outside  a  moment." 

Her  eyes  followed  him  as  he  stepped  through  the 
door  into  the  darkness;  then  her  head  dropped  into 
the  support  of  her  hands.  There  was  silence  except 
for  the  crackling  of  the  fire,  until  Neb  moved  uneasily. 
At  the  sound  the  girl  looked  up,  seeing  clearly  the  good- 
natured  face  of  the  negro. 

"  Yo'  don't  nebber  need  cry.  Missus,"  he  said 
soberly,  "  so  long  as  Massa  Jack  done  'greed  to  look 
after  yo'." 
"  Have  —  have  you  known  him  long?  " 
"  Has  I  knowed  him  long,  honey?  Ebber  sence  be- 
fo'  de  wah.  Why  I  done  knowed  Massa  Jack  when  he 
wan't  more'n  dat  high.  Lawd,  he  sho'  was  a  lively 
youngster,  but  mighty  good  hearted  to  us  niggers." 


88  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

She  hesitated  to  question  a  servant,  and  yet  felt  she 
must  uncover  the  truth. 

"Who  is  he?  Is  he  all  he  claims  to  be  —  a  Vir- 
ginia gentleman?  " 

All  the  loyalty  and  pride  of  slavery  days  was  in  Neb. 

"He  sho'  am,  Missus;  dar  ain't  nuthin'  higher  in 
ol'  Virginia  dan  de  Keiths.  Dey  ain't  got  much  money 
sence  the  Yankees  come  down  dar,  but  dey  's  quality 
follis  jest  de  same.  I  was  done  born  on  de  ol'  Co'nel's 
plantation,  and  I  reck'n  dar  wan't  no  finer  man  ebber 
libed.  He  was  done  killed  in  de  wah.  An'  Massa 
Jack  he  was  a  captain ;  he  rode  on  hossback,  an'  Lawdy, 
but  he  did  look  scrumptuous  when  he  first  got  his  uni- 
form. He  done  fought  all  through  de  wah,  an'  dey  say 
Ginral  Lee  done  shook  hands  wid  him,  an'  said  how 
proud  he  was  ter  know  him.  You  kin  sutt'nly  tie  to 
Massa  Jack,  Missus." 

The  negro's  voice  had  scarcely  ceased  when  Keith 
came  in  again,  closing  the  door  securely  behind  him. 

"  All  quiet  outside,"  he  announced,  speaking  with 
new  confidence.  "  I  wanted  to  get  an  understanding 
of  the  surroundings  in  case  of  emergency,"  he  ex- 
plained, as  if  in  answer  to  the  questioning  of  the  brown 
eyes  gravely  uplifted  to  his  face.  "  I  see  there  is  quite 
a  corral  at  the  lower  end  of  this  island,  safely  hidden 
behind  the  fringe  of  cottonwoods.     And  a  log  stable 


THE  GIRL  OF  THE  CABIN  89 

back  of  the  house.  Is  the  creek  fordable  both 
ways?  " 

"  I  think  so;  the  man  who  brought  me  here  rode 
away  south." 

"  And  are  you  going  to  trust  yourself  to  my  care?  " 

She  came  around  the  table  with  hands  extended.  He 
took  them  into  his  grasp,  looking  down  into  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  softly,  "  I  am  going  to  trust  you. 
Captain  Keith." 

He  laughed. 

"  Captain,  hey?  You  must  have  been  talking  with 
that  black  rascal  there." 

The  swift  color  flooded  her  face,  but  her  hands  re- 
mained imprisoned. 

"  I  just  done  tol'  her  who  de  Keiths  was  down  in 
ol'  Virginia,  sah,"  burst  in  Neb  indignantly.  "  I  sho' 
don't  want  nobody  to  think  I  go  trapsin'  'round  wid 
any  low  white  trash." 

The  gray  eyes  and  the  brown,  gazing  into  one 
another,  smiled  with  understanding. 

"  Oh,  well,"  Keith  acknowledged,  genially,  "  I  can- 
not say  I  am  sorry  you  know  something  of  my  past 
glories;  if  one  can't  have  a  future,  it  is  some  source 
of  pride  to  have  a  past  to  remember.  But  now  about 
the  present.  We  're  not  much  protection  to  any  one, 
the  way  we  're  fixed,  as  we  are  unarmed." 


90  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  There  Is  a  big  revolver  hanging  in  a  holster  in 
the  other  room,"  she  answered,  "  and  a  short,  sawed- 
off  gun  of  some  kind,  but  I  don't  know  about  ammuni- 
tion." 

"  May  we  investigate?  " 

"  Most  certainly,"  and  she  threw  open  the  interven- 
ing door.  As  the  two  stepped  into  the  other  apart- 
ment she  held  the  lamp  in  aid  of  their  search.  "  There 
is  the  revolver  on  the  wall,  and  the  gun  is  in  the  oppo- 
site corner.  Is  n't  It  strange  you  should  be  out  In  this 
country  without  arms?  " 

Keith  glanced  up,  the  revolver  In  his  hands.  The 
radiance  of  the  light  was  full  upon  her  face,  revealing 
the  clearness  of  her  skin,  the  dark  shadows  of  her 
lashes.  There  was  the  faintest  tinge  of  suspicion  to 
the  question,  but  he  answered  easily. 

"  We  left  Carson  In  something  of  a  hurry.  I  '11  tell 
you  the  story  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  X 

MR.  HAWLEY  REVEALS  HIMSELF 

A  FRAGMENT  of  candle,  stuck  tightly  Into  the 
-*■  ^  neck  of  an  empty  bottle,  appeared  on  a  low 
shelf,  ?nd  Keith  lighted  it,  the  girl  returning  the  lamp 
to  its  former  position  on  the  front  room  table.  In- 
vestigation revealed  a  dozen  cartridges  fitting  the  re- 
volver, but  no  ammunition  was  discovered  adapted  to 
the  sawed-off  gun,  which  Neb  had  already  appropriated, 
and  was  dragging  about  with  him,  peering  Into  each 
black  corner  in  anxious  search.  The  two  were  still 
busily  employed  at  this,  when  to  their  ears,  through 
the  stillness  of  the  night,  there  came  the  unexpected 
noise  of  splashing  in  the  water  without,  and  then  the 
sound  of  a  horse  stumbling  as  he  struck  the  bank. 
Quick  as  a  flash  Keith  closed  the  Intervening  door,  ex- 
tinguished the  dim  flame  of  the  candle,  and  grasping 
the  startled  negro's  arm,  hushed  him   Into  silence. 

Crouching  close  behind  the  door,  through  a  crack 
of  which  the  light  streamed,  yielding  slight  view  of 
the  interior,  the  plainsman  anxiously  awaited  develop- 
ments.    These    arrivals    must    certainly    be    some    of 

91 


92  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

those  connected  with  the  house;  there  could  be  little 
doubt  as  to  that.  Nevertheless,  they  might  prove  the 
posse  following  them,  who  had  chanced  to  stumble  ac- 
cidentally on  their  retreat.  In  either  case  they  could 
merely  wait,  and  learn.  Some  one  swore  without,  and 
was  sharply  rebuked  by  another  voice,  which  added  an 
order  gruffly.  Then  the  outer  latch  clicked,  and  a  sin- 
gle man  stepped  within,  immediately  closing  the  door. 
Keith  could  not  see  the  girl  through  the  small  aperture, 
but  he  heard  her  quick  exclamation,  startled,  yet  full 
of  relief. 

"  Oh,  is  it  you  ?     I  am  so  glad !  " 

The  man  laughed  lightly. 

"  It  is  nice  to  be  welcomed,  although,  perhaps, 
after  your  time  of  loneliness  any  arrival  would 
prove  a  relief.  Did  you  think  I  was  never  coming, 
Christie?" 

"  I  could  not  understand,"  she  replied,  evidently 
with  much  less  enthusiasm,  and  to  Keith's  thinking,  a 
shade  resentful  of  the  familiarity,  "  but  naturally  sup- 
posed you  must  be  unexpectedly  delayed." 

"  Well,  I  was,"  and  he  apparently  flung  both  coat 
and  hat  on  a  bench,  with  the  intention  of  remaining. 
"  The  marshal  arrested  a  fellow  for  a  murder  com- 
mitted out  on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  and  required  me  as 
a  witness.     But  the  man  got  away  before  we  had  any 


MR.  HAWLEY  REVEALS  HIMSELF      93 

chance  to  try  him,  and  I  have  been  on  his  trail  ever 
since." 

"  A  murder  1     Did  you  imagine  he  came  this  way?  " 
*'  Not  very  likely;  fact  of  it  is,  the  sand  storm  yester- 
day destroyed  all  traces,  and,  as  a  result,  we  Ve  lost 
him.     So   I   headed  a   few  of  the  boys  over   in  this 
direction,  as  I  wanted  to  relieve  you  of  anxiety." 

She  was  silent  an  instant,  and  the  man  crossed  to 
the  fireplace,  where  Keith  could  gain  a  glimpse  of  him. 
Already  suspicious  from  the  familiar  sound  of  his 
voice,  he  was  not  surprised  to  recognize  "  Black  Bart." 
The  plainsman's  fingers  gripped  the  negro's  arm,  his 
eyes  burning.  So  this  gambler  and  blackleg  was  the 
gentlemanly  Mr.  Hawley,  was  he;  well,  what  could 
be  his  little  game?  Why  had  he  inveigled  the  girl 
into  this  lonely  spot?  And  what  did  he  now  propose 
doing  with  her?  As  he  crouched  there,  peering 
through  that  convenient  crack  in  the  door,  Keith 
completely  forgot  his  own  peril,  intent  only  upon  this 
new  discovery.  She  came  slowly  around  the  end  of 
the  table,  and  stood  leaning  against  it,  her  face  clearly 
revealed  in  the  light  of  the  lamp.  For  the  first  time 
Keith  really  perceived  its  beauty,  its  fresh  charm. 
Could  such  as  she  be  singer  and  dancer  in  a  frontier 
concert  hall?  And  if  so,  what  strange  conditions  ever 
drove  her  into  that  sort  of  life? 


94  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"Is  —  is  Fred  with  you?"  she  questioned,  doubt- 
fully. 

"  No;  he  's  with  another  party  riding  farther  west," 
the  man  's  eyes  surveying  her  with  manifest  approval. 
"  You  are  certainly  looking  fine  to-night,  my  girl.  It 's 
difficult  to  understand  how  I  ever  managed  to  keep 
away  from  you  so  long." 

She  flushed  to  the  hair,  her  lips  trembling  at  the 
open  boldness  of  his  tone. 

"I  —  I  prefer  you  would  not  speak  like  that,"  she 
protested. 

"And  why  not?"  with  a  light  laugh.  "Come, 
Christie,  such  fine  airs  are  a  trifle  out  of  place.  If  I 
didn't  know  you  were  a  concert  hall  artist,  I  might 
be  more  deeply  Impressed.  As  it  Is,  I  reckon  you  've 
heard  love  words  before  now." 

"  Mr.  Hawley,  I  have  trusted  you  as  a  gentleman. 
I  never  came  here  except  on  your  promise  to  bring  me 
to  my  brother,"  and  she  stood  erect  before  him.  "  You 
have  no  right  to  even  assume  that  I  am  Christie 
Maclaire." 

"  Sure  not;  I  don't  assume.  I  have  seen  that  lady 
too  often  to  be  mistaken.  Don't  try  on  that  sort  of 
thing  with  me  —  I  don't  take  to  it  kindly.  Perhaps 
a  kiss  might  put  you  in  better  humor." 

He  took  a  step   forward,   as  though  proposing  to 


MR.  HAWLEY  REVEALS  HIMSELF      95 

carry  out  his  threat,  but  the  girl  stopped  him,  her 
eyes  burning  with  indignation. 

"  How  dare  you !  "  she  exclaimed  passionately,  all 
fear  leaving  her  in  sudden  resentment.  "  You  think 
me  alone  here  and  helpless;  that  you  can  insult  me 
at  your  pleasure.  Don't  go  too  far,  Mr.  Hawley.  I 
know  what  you  are  now,  and  it  makes  no  difference 
what  you  may  think  of  me,  or  call  me ;  you  '11  find 
me  perfectly  able  to  defend  myself." 

*'  Oh,  indeed!  "  sneeringly,  "  you  are  melodramatic; 
you  should  have  been  an  actress  instead  of  a  singer. 
But  you  waste  your  talent  out  here  on  me.  Do  you 
imagine  I  fear  either  you,  or  your  precious  brother? 
Why,  I  could  have  him  hung  to-morrow." 

She  was  staring  at  him  with  wide  open  eyes,  her  face 
white. 

"What  —  what  do  you  mean?  What  has  Fred 
done?" 

He  was  cold  and  sarcastic. 

"That  makes  no  difference;  it  is  what  I  could 
induce  men  to  swear  he  had  done.  It 's  easy  enough 
to  convict  In  this  country,  if  you  only  know  how.  I 
simply  tell  you  this,  so  you  won't  press  me  too  hard. 
Puritanism  is  out  of  place  west  of  the  Missouri, 
especially  among  ladies  of  your  profession.  Oh,  come, 
now,    Christie,    don't   try   to   put   such    airs    on    with 


96  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

me.  I  know  who  you  are,  all  right,  and  can  guess 
why  you  are  hunting  after  Fred  Willoughby.  I 
pumped  the  boy,  and  got  most  of  the  truth  out  of 
him." 

"You  —  you  have  seen  him,  then,  since  you  left 
me,"  she  faltered,  bewildered,  "  and  did  n't  bring  him 
here  with  you?  " 

"Why  should  I?"  and  the  man  stepped  forward, 
his  eyes  on  her,  his  hands  twitching  with  a  desire  to 
clasp  her  to  him,  yet  restrained  by  some  undefinable 
power.  "  While  I  believed  your  brother  story,  I 
could  have  played  the  good  Samaritan  most  beautifully, 
but  after  I  talked  with  Willoughby  I  prefer  him  at  a 
distance." 

"  My  brother  story!  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate 
you  doubt  his  being  my  brother?     He  told  you  that?  " 

"  He  gave  up  the  whole  trick.  You  can't  trust  a 
kid  like  that,  Christie.  A  couple  of  drinks  will  loosen 
his  tongue,  and  put  you  in  wrong.  Come,  now,  I 
know  it  all;  be  reasonable." 

Apparently  the  girl  had  lost  her  power  of  speech, 
staring  blindly  at  the  face  of  the  man  before  her,  as 
a  bird  meets  the  slow  approach  of  a  snake.  Keith 
could  see  her  lips  move,  but  making  no  sound.  Hawley 
evidently  interpreted  her  silence  as  hesitation,  doubt 
as  to  his  real  meaning. 


MR.  HAWLEY  REVEALS  HIMSELF      97 

"  You  see  where  you  are  at  now,  Christie,"  he  went 
on  swiftly.  "  But  you  don't  need  to  be  afraid.  I  'm 
going  to  be  a  friend  to  you,  and  you  can  be  mighty 
glad  you  got  rid  of  Wllloughby  so  easily.  Why,  I 
can  buy  you  diamonds  where  he  could  n't  give  you  a 
calico  dress.  Come  on,  let 's  stop  this  foolishness.  I 
took  a  liking  to  you  back  there  In  the  stage,  and  the 
more  I  've  thought  about  you  since  the  crazier  I  've 
got.  When  I  succeeded  in  pumping  Wllloughby  dry, 
and  discovered  you  was  n't  his  sister  at  all,  why  that 
settled  the  matter.  I  came  down  here  after  you.  I 
love  you,  do  you  understand  that?  And,  what 's  more, 
I  intend  to  have  you !  " 

He  reached  out,  and  actually  grasped  her,  but,  in 
some  manner,  she  tore  loose,  and  sprang  back  around 
the  end  of  the  table,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes  burn- 
ing. 

"  Don't  touch  me !  don't  dare  touch  me !  "  she 
panted.  "You  lie;  Fred  Wllloughby  never  told  you 
that.  If  you  come  one  step  nearer,  I  '11  scream;  I  '11 
call  your  men  here;  I  '11  tell  them  the  kind  of  a  cur 
you  are." 

He  laughed,  leaning  over  toward  her,  yet  hesitating, 
his  eyes  full  of  admiration.  Her  very  fierceness  ap- 
pealed to  him,  urged  him  on. 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't!     In  the  first  place  they  probably 


98  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

would  n't  hear,  for  they  are  camped  down  in  the  corral. 
I  suspected  you  might  be  something  of  a  tigress,  and 
preferred  to  fight  it  out  with  you  alone.  Then,  even 
if  they  did  hear,  there  would  be  no  interference  — 
I  've  got  those  fellows  trained  too  well  for  that. 
Come  on,  Christie;  you're  helpless  here." 

"Am  I?" 

"  Yes,  you  are.'* 

He  took  a  step  toward  her,  his  hands  flung  out. 
With  one  quick  movement  she  sprang  aside  and  ex- 
tinguished the  lamp,  plunging  the  room  into  instant 
darkness.  A  few  red  coals  glowed  dully  in  the  fire- 
place, but  all  else  was  dense  blackness.  Keith  heard 
the  movements  of  Hawley,  as  he  felt  his  way  uncertainly 
along  the  table,  swearing  as  he  failed  to  find  the  girl. 
Then,  like  a  shadow,  he  glided  through  the  partly  open 
door  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    FIGHT    IN    THE    DARK 

HAD  the  room  been  filled  with  men  Keith  could 
have  restrained  himself  no  longer.  Whatever 
her  past  might  be,  this  woman  appealed  to  him 
strangely;  he  could  not  believe  evil  of  her;  he  would 
have  died  if  need  be  in  her  defence.  But  as  it  was, 
the  ugly  boast  of  Hawley  gave  confidence  in  the  final 
outcome  of  this  struggle  in  the  dark,  even  a  possibility 
of  escape  for  them  all.  The  gambler,  assured  of 
being  confronted  merely  by  a  frail  and  not  over- 
scrupulous woman,  had  ventured  there  alone;  had  sta- 
tioned his  men  beyond  sound;  had  doubtless  instructed 
them  to  ignore  any  noise  of  struggle  which  they  might 
overhear  within.  It  was  these  very  arrangements  for 
evil  which  now  afforded  opportunity,  and  Keith  crept 
forward,  alert  and  ready,  his  teeth  clenched,  his  hands 
bare  for  contest.  Even  although  he  surprised  his 
antagonist,  it  was  going  to  be  a  fight  for  life;  he  knew 
"  Black  Bart,"  broad-shouldered,  quick  as  a  cat,  ac- 
customed to  every  form  of  physical  exercise,  desperate 
and  tricky,  using  either  knife  or  gun  recklessly.     Yet 

99 


loo  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

it  was  now  or  never  for  all  of  them,  and  the  plains- 
man felt  no  mercy,  experienced  no  reluctance.  He 
reached  the  table,  and  straightened  up,  silent,  expectant. 
For  an  instant  there  was  no  further  sound;  no  evi- 
dence of  movement  in  the  room.  Hawley,  puzzled 
by  the  silence,  was  listening  intently  in  an  endeavor  to 
thus  locate  the  girl  through  some  rustling,  some  slight 
motion.  A  knife,  knocked  from  the  table,  perhaps, 
as  she  slipped  softly  past,  fell  clattering  to  the  floor, 
and  the  gambler  leaped  Instantly  foward.  Keith's 
grip  closed  like  iron  on  his  groping  arm,  while  he 
shot  one  fist  out  toward  where  the  man's  head  should 
be.  The  blow  glanced,  yet  drove  the  fellow  back- 
ward, stumbling  against  the  table,  and  Keith  closed  in, 
grappling  for  the  throat.  The  other,  startled  by  the 
unexpected  attack,  and  scarcely  realizing  even  yet  the 
nature  of  his  antagonist,  struggled  blindly  to  escape 
the  fingers  clawing  at  him,  and  flung  one  hand  down  to 
the  knife  In  his  belt.  Warned  by  the  movement,  the 
assailant  drove  his  head  into  the  gambler's  chest,  send- 
ing him  crashing  to  the  floor,  falling  himself  heavily 
upon  the  prostrate  body.  Hawley  gave  utterance  to 
one  cry,  half  throttled  in  his  throat,  and  then  the  two 
grappled  fiercely,  so  Interlocked  together  as  to  make 
weapons  useless.  Whoever  the  assailant  might  be,  the 
gambler  was  fully  aware  by  now  that  he  was  being 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  lOi 

crushed  in  the  grasp  of  a  fighting  man,,. and,  exerted 
every  wrestler's  trick,  every  ounce  of  sUengtii,  to  break 
free.     Twice  he   struggled  to   his   knees,   only   to  be 
crowded  backward  by  relentless  power;  once  he  hurled 
Keith  sideways,  but  the  plainsman's  muscles  stiffened 
into    steel,    and    he    gradually    regained    his    position. 
Neither  dared  release  a  grip  in  order  to  strike  a  blow; 
neither  had  sufficient  breath  left  with  which  to  utter 
a   sound.     They  were  fighting   for  life,   silently,   des- 
perately, like  wild  beasts,  with  no  thought  but  to  injure 
the    other.     The    gambler's    teeth    sank    into    Keith's 
arm,  and  the  latter  in  return  jammed  the  man's  head 
back  onto  the  puncheon  floor  viciously.     Perspiration 
streamed    from    their   bodies,    their   fingers    clutching, 
their  limbs  wrapped  together,   their  muscles   strained 
to  the  utmost.     Keith  had  forgotten  the  girl,  the  negro, 
everything,  dominated  by  the  one  passion  to  conquer. 
He  was  swept  by  a  storm  of  hatred,  a  desire  to  kill. 
In   their  fierce   struggle   the   two   had   rolled  close   to 
the  fireplace,  and  in  the  dull  glow  of  the  dying  embers, 
he  could  perceive  a   faint  outline  of  the  man's   face. 
The  sight  added  flame  to  his  mad  passion,  yet  he  could 
do  nothing  except  to  cling  to  him,  jabbing  his  fingers 
into  the  straining  throat. 

The  negro  ended  the  affair  in  his  own  way,  clawing 
blindly  at  the  combatants  in  the  darkness,  and  finally, 


102  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

determining  which  was  the  enemy,  he  struck  the  gambler 
with  the  stock  6F  his  gun,  laying  him  out  unconscious. 
Keith,  grasping  the  table,  hauled  himself  to  his  feet, 
gasping  for  breath,  certain  only  that  Hawley  was  no 
longer  struggling.  For  an  instant  all  was  blank, 
a  mist  of  black  vapor;  then  a  realization  of  their 
situation  came  back  in  sudden  flood  of  remembrance. 
Even  yet  he  could  see  nothing,  but  felt  the  motionless 
figure  at  his  feet. 

"  Quick,"  he  urged,  the  instant  he  could  make  him- 
self speak.  "The  fellow  is  only  stunned;  we  must 
tie  and  gag  him.  Is  that  you,  Neb?  Where  is  the 
girl?" 

"  I  am  here.  Captain  Keith,"  and  he  heard  the  soft 
rustle  of  her  dress  across  the  room.  "  What  is  it  I 
may   do?" 

"  A  coil  of  rope,  or  some  straps,  with  a  piece  of 
cloth;  anything  you  can  lay  hands  on." 

She  was  some  moments  at  it,  confused  by  the  dark- 
ness, and  Hawley  moved  slightly,  his  labored  breath- 
ing growing  plainly  perceptible.  Keith  heard  her 
groping  toward  him,  and  held  out  his  hands.  She 
started  as  he  thus  unexpectedly  touched  her,  yet  made 
no  effort  to  break  away. 

"You  —  you  frightened  me  a  little."  she  confessed. 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  103 

■*'  This  has  all  happened  so  quickly  I   hardly  realize 
yet  just  what  has  occurred." 

"  The  action  has  only  really  begun,"  he  assured  her, 
still  retaining  his  hold  upon  her  hand.  "  This  was 
merely  a  preliminary  skirmish,  and  you  must  prepare 
to  bear  your  part  in  what  follows.  We  have  settled 
Mr.  Hawley  for  the  present,  and  now  must  deal  with 
his  gang." 

*'  Oh,  what  would  I  have  done  If  you  had  not  been 
here?" 

"  Let  us  not  think  about  that;  we  were  here,  and  now 
have  a  busy  night  before  us  if  we  get  away  safely. 
Give  me  the  rope  first.  Good !  Here,  Neb,  you  must 
know  how  to  use  this, —  not  too  tight,  but  without  leav- 
ing any  play  to  the  arms;  take  the  knife  out  of  his  belt. 
Now  for  the  cloth,  Miss  Maclaire." 

"  Please  do  not  call  me  that!  " 

*'  But  you  said  It  did  n't  make  any  difference  what  I 
called  you." 

I      *'  I  thought  it  did  n't  then,  but  It  does  now." 
'      "  Oh,  I  see ;  we  are  already  on  a  new  footing.     Yet 
I  must  call  you  something." 

She  hesitated  just  long  enough  for  him  to  notice  It. 
Either  she  had  no  substitute  ready  at  hand,  or  else 
doubted  the  advisability  of  confiding  her  real  name 


104  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

under  present  circumstances  to  one  so  nearly  a  stran- 
ger. 

"  You  may  call  me  Hope." 

"  A  name  certainly  of  good  omen,"  he  returned. 
*'  From  this  moment  I  shall  forget  Christie  Maclaire, 
and  remember  only  Miss  Hope.  All  right,  Neb;  now 
turn  over  a  chair,  and  sit  your  man  up  against  it.  He 
will  rest  all  the  easier  In  that  position  until  his  gang 
arrive." 

He  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  door,  peering 
cautiously  forth  Into  the  night,  and  listening.  A  single 
horse,  probably  the  one  Hawley  had  been  riding,  was 
tied  to  a  dwarfed  cottonwood  near  the  corner  of  the 
cabin.     Nothing  else  living  was  visible. 

"  I  am  going  to  round  up  our  horses,  and  learn  the 
condition  of  Hawley's  outfit,"  he  announced  in  a  low 
voice.  "  I  may  be  gone  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes, 
and,  meanwhile.  Miss  Hope,  get  ready  for  a  long  ride. 
Neb,  stand  here  close  beside  the  door,  and  if  any  one 
tries  to  come  in  brain  him  with  your  gun-stock.  I  '11 
rap  three  times  when  I  return." 

He  slipped  out  Into  the  silent  night,  and  crept 
cautiously  around  the  end  of  the  dark  cabin.  The 
distinct  change  In  the  girl's  attitude  of  friendship 
toward  him,  her  very  evident  desire  that  he  should  think 
well  of  her,  together  with  the  providential  opportunity 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  105 

for  escape,  had  left  him  full  of  confidence.  The 
gambler  had  played  blindly  into  their  hands,  and 
Keith  was  quick  enough  to  accept  the  advantage.  It 
was  a  risk  to  himself,  to  be  sure,  thus  turning  again 
to  the  northward,  yet  the  clear  duty  he  owed  the  girl 
left  such  a  choice  almost  imperative.  He  certainly 
could  not  drag  her  along  with  him  on  his  flight  into 
the  wild  Comanche  country  extending  beyond  the 
Canadian.  She  must,  at  the  very  least,  be  first  re- 
turned to  the  protection  of  the  semi-civilization  along 
the  Arkansas.  After  that  had  been  accomplished,  he 
would  consider  his  own  safety.  He  wondered  if  Hope 
really  was  her  name,  and  whether  it  was  the  family 
cognomen,  or  her  given  name.  That  she  was  Christie 
Maclaire  he  had  no  question,  yet  that  artistic  embel- 
lishment was  probably  merely  assumed  for  the  work 
of  the  concert  hall.  Both  he  and  Hawley  could 
scarcely  be  mistaken  as  to  her  identity  in  this  respect, 
and,  indeed,  she  had  never  openly  denied  the  fact.  Yet 
she  did  not  at  all  seem  to  be  that  kind,  and  Keith 
mentally  contrasted  her  with  numerous  others  whom 
he  had  somewhat  intimately  known  along  the  border 
circuit.  It  was  difiicult  to  associate  her  with  that  class ; 
she  must  have  come  originally  from  some  excellent 
family  East,  and  been  driven  to  the  life  by  necessity;  she 
was  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed.    Keith  held  no  puri- 


io6  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

tanical  views  of  life  —  his  own  experiences  had  been 
too  rough  and  democratic  for  that  —  yet  he  clung 
tenaciously  to  an  Ideal  of  womanhood  which  could  not 
be  lowered.  However  Interested  he  might  otherwise 
feel,  no  Christie  Maclaire  could  ever  find  entrance  Into 
the  deeps  of  his  heart,  where  dwelt  alone  the  memory 
of  his  mother.  ,  - 

He  found  the  other  horses  turned  Into  the  corral, 
and  was  able,  from  their  restless  movements,  to  decide 
they  numbered  eight.  A  fire,  nearly  extinguished, 
glowed  dully  at  the  farther  corner  of  the  enclosure, 
and  he  crawled  close  enough  to  distinguish  the  re- 
cumbent forms  of  men  sleeping  about  It  on  the  ground. 
Apparently  no  guard  had  been  set,  the  fellows  being 
worn  out  from  their  long  ride,  and  confident  of  safety 
In  this  Isolated  spot.  Besides,  Hawley  had  probably 
assumed  that  duty,  and  told  them  to  get  whatever  sleep 
they  could.  However,  the  gate  of  the  corral  opened 
beside  their  fire,  and  Keith  dare  not  venture  upon  rop- 
ing any  of  their  ponies,  or  leading  them  out  past  where 
they  slept.  There  might  be  clippers  in  the  cabin  with 
which  he  could  cut  the  wires,  yet  if  one  of  the  gang 
awoke,  and  discovered  the  herd  absent,  it  would  re- 
sult in  an  alarm,  and  lead  to  early  pursuit.  It  was  far 
safer  to  use  their  own  ponies.  He  would  lead 
Hawley's  horse  quietly  through  the  water,  and  they 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  107 

could  mount  on  the  other  shore.  This  plan  settled, 
he  went  at  it  swiftly,  riding  the  captured  animal  while 
rounding  up  the  others,  and  fastening  the  three  to 
stunted  trees  on  the  opposite  bank.  Everything  within 
the  cabin  remained  exactly  as  he  had  left  it,  and  he 
briefly  explained  the  situation,  examining  Hawley's 
bonds  again  carefully  while  doing  so. 

"  He  '11  remain  there  all  right  until  his  men  find 
him,"  he  declared,  positively,  "  and  that  ought  to  give 
us  a  good  six  hours'  start.  Come,  Miss  Hope,  every 
minute  counts  now." 

He  held  her  arm,  not  unconscious  of  its  round  shape- 
liness, as  he  helped  her  down  the  rather  steep  bank 
through  the  dense  gloom.  Then  the  two  men  joined 
hands,  and  carrying  her  easily  between  them,  waded 
the  shallow  stream.  The  horses,  not  yet  sufficiently 
rested  to  be  frisky,  accepted  their  burdens  meekly 
enough,  and,  with  scarcely  a  word  spoken,  the  three 
rode  away  silently  Into  the  gloom  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THROUGH   THE   NIGHT   SHADOWS 

KEITH  had  very  little  to  guide  him,  as  he  could 
not  determine  whether  this  mysterious  cabin  on 
the  Salt  Fork  lay  to  east  or  west  of  the  usual  cattle  trail 
leading  down  to  the  Canadian.  Yet  he  felt  reasonably 
assured  that  the  general  trend  of  the  country  lying 
between  the  smaller  stream  and  the  valley  of  the 
Arkansas  would  be  similar  to  that  with  which  he  was 
already  acquainted.  It  was  merely  a  wild  stretch  of 
sandy  desolation,  across  which  their  horses  would  leave 
scarcely  any  trail,  and  even  that  little  would  be  quickly 
obliterated  by  the  first  puff  of  wind.  As  they  drew 
in  toward  the  river  valley  this  plain  would  change 
into  sand  dunes,  baffling  and  confusing,  but  no  matter 
how  hard  they  pressed  forward,  it  must  be  daylight 
long  before  they  could  hope  to  reach  these,  and  this 
would  give  him  opportunity  to  spy  out  some  familiar 
landmark  which  would  guide  them  to  the  ford.  Mean- 
while, he  must  head  as  directly  north  as  possible,  trust- 
ing the  horses  to  find  footing. 

io8 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  SHADOWS     109 

It  was  plains  Instinct,  or  rather  long  training  in 
the  open,  which  enabled  him  to  retain  any  true  sense 
of  direction,  for  beyond  the  narrow  fringe  of  cotton- 
woods  along  the  stream,  nothing  was  visible,  the  eyes 
scarcely  able  even  to  distinguish  where  earth  and  sky 
met.  They  advanced  across  a  bare  level,  without  ele- 
vation or  depression,  yet  the  sand  appeared  sufficiently 
solid,  so  that  their  horses  were  forced  into  a  swinging 
lope,  and  they  seemed  to  fairly  press  aside  the  black 
curtain,  which  as  instantly  swung  shut  once  more,  and 
closed  them  in.  The  pounding  hoofs  made  little  noise, 
and  they  pressed  steadily  onward,  closely  bunched  to- 
gether, so  as  not  to  lose  each  other,  dim,  spectral 
shadows  flitting  through  the  night,  a  very  part  of  that 
grim  desolation  surrounding  them.  No  one  of  the 
three  felt  like  speaking;  the  gloomy,  brooding  desert 
oppressed  them,  their  vagrant  thoughts  assuming  the 
tinge  of  their  surroundings;  their  hope  centred  on 
escape.  Keith  rode,  grasping  the  rein  of  the  woman's 
horse  in  his  left  hand,  and  bending  low  in  vain  effort 
at  picking  a  path.  He  had  nothing  to  aim  toward, 
yet  sturdy  confidence  in  his  expert  plainscraft  yielded 
him  sufficient  sense  of  direction.  He  had  noted  the 
bark  of  the  cottonwoods,  the  direction  of  the  wind, 
and  steered  a  course  accordingly  straight  northward, 
alert  to  avert  any  variation. 


no  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

The  girl  rode  easily,  although  in  a  man's  saddle,  the 
stirrups  much  too  long.  Keith  glanced  aside  with  swift 
approval  at  the  erectness  with  which  she  sat,  the  loosened 
rein  in  her  hand,  the  slight  swaying  of  her  form.  He 
could  appreciate  horsemanship,  and  the  easy  manner 
in  which  she  rode  relieved  him  of  one  anxiety.  It  even 
caused  him  to  break  the  silence. 

"  You  are  evidently  accustomed  to  riding,  Miss 
Hope." 

She  glanced  across  at  him  through  the  darkness,  as 
though  suddenly  surprised  from  thought,  her  words  not 
coming  quickly. 

"  I  cannot  remember  when  I  first  mounted  a  horse; 
in  earliest  childhood,  surely,  although  I  have  not  rid- 
den much  of  late.     This  one  Is  like  a  rocking  chair." 

"  He  belonged  to  your  friend,  Mr.  Hawley." 

She  drew  a  quick  breath,  her  face  again  turned  for- 
ward. 

"Who  —  who   Is  that  man?     Do  you  know?" 

"  I  possess  a  passing  acquaintance,"  he  answered, 
uncertain  yet  how  much  to  tell  her,  but  tempted  to  re- 
veal all  in  test  of  her  real  character.  "  Few  do  not 
who  live  along  the  Kansas  border." 

"  Do  you  mean  he  Is  a  notoriously  bad  character?  " 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  his  being  held  up  as  a  model 
to  the  young.  Miss  Hope,"  he  returned  more  soberly, 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  SHADOWS     iii 

convinced  that  she  truly  possessed  no  real  knowledge 
regarding  the  man,  and  was  not  merely  pretending  in- 
nocence. "  I  had  never  heard  him  called  Hawley  be- 
fore, and,  therefore,  failed  to  recognize  him  under 
that  respectable  name.  But  I  knew  his  voice  the  mo- 
ment he  entered  the  cabin,  and  realized  that  some 
devilment  was  afoot.  Every  town  along  this  frontier 
has  his  record,  and  I  've  met  him  maybe  a  dozen  times 
in  the  past  three  years.  He  Is  known  as  *  Black  Bart ' ; 
Is  a  gambler  by  profession,  a  desperado  by  reputation, 
and  a  cur  by  nature.  Just  now  I  suspect  him  of  being 
even  deeper  in  the  mire  than  this." 

He  could  tell  by  the  quick  clasping  of  her  hands  on 
the  pommel  of  the  saddle  the  effect  of  his  words,  but 
waited  until  the  silence  compelled  her  to  speak. 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  know  !  You  do  not  believe  that  I  ever 
suspected  such  a  thing?  That  I  ever  met  him  there 
understanding  who  he  was?" 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  he  answered.  "  What  I  overheard 
between  you  convinced  me  you  were  the  victim  of  de- 
ceit. But  your  going  to  that  place  alone  was  a  most 
reckless  act." 

She  lifted  her  hand  to  her  eyes,  her  head  drooping 
forward. 

"  Was  n't  it  what  he  told  me  —  the  out-station  of 
a  ranch?  " 


112  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

*'  No;  I  have  ridden  this  country  for  years,  and  there 
is  no  ranch  pasturing  cattle  along  the  Salt  Fork.  Miss 
Hope,  I  want  you  to  comprehend  what  it  is  you  have 
escaped  from;  what  you  are  now  fleeing  from.  Within 
the  last  two  years  an  apparently  organized  body  of 
outlaws  have  been  operating  throughout  this  entire 
region.  Oftentimes  disguised  as  Indians,  they  have 
terrorized  the  Santa  Fe  trail  for  two  hundred  miles, 
killing  travellers  in  small  parties,  and  driving  off  stock. 
There  are  few  ranches  as  far  west  as  this,  but  these 
have  all  suffered  from  raids.  These  fellows  have  done 
more  to  precipitate  the  present  Indian  war  than  any  act 
of  the  savages.  They  have  endeavored  to  make  the 
authorities  believe  that  Indians  were  guilty  of  their 
deeds  of  murder  and  robbery.  Both  troops  and  volun- 
teers have  tried  to  hold  the  gang  up,  but  they  scatter 
and  disappear,  as  though  swallowed  by  the  desert.  I 
have  been  out  twice,  hard  on  their  trail,  only  to  come 
back  baffled.  Now,  I  think  accident  has  given  me  the 
clue." 

She  straightened  up;  glancing  questionlngly  at  him 
through  the  darkness. 

"  That  Is  what  I  mean.  Miss  Hope.  I  suspect  that 
cabin  to  be  the  rendezvous  of  those  fellows,  and  I 
half  believe  Hawley  to  be  their  leader." 

"  Then  you  will  report  all  this  to  the  authorities?  " 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  SHADOWS     113 

He  smiled  grimly,  his  lips  compressed. 

"  I  hardly  think  so;  at  least,  not  for  the  present.  I 
am  not  blood-thirsty,  or  enamored  of  man-hunting, 
but  I  happen  to  have  a  personal  interest  in  this  par- 
ticular affair  which  I  should  prefer  to  settle  alone." 
He  paused,  swiftly  reviewing  the  circumstances  of  their 
short  acquaintance,  and  as  suddenly  determining  to 
trust  her  discretion.  Deep  down  in  his  heart  he 
rather  wanted  her  to  know.  "  The  fact  of  the  matter 
is,  that  Neb  and  I  here  were  the  ones  that  particular 
posse  were  trailing." 

"  You !  "  her  voice  faltered.  "  He  said  those  men 
were  under  arrest  for  murder,  and  had  broken  jail." 

"  He  also  said  it  was  easy  to  convict  men  in  this 
country  If  you  only  knew  how.  It  is  true  we  broke 
jail,  but  only  in  order  to  save  our  lives;  it  was  the 
only  way.  Technically,  we  are  outlaws,  and  now  run 
the  risk  of  immediate  re-arrest  by  returning  north  of 
the  Arkansas.  We  came  to  you  fugitives;  I  was 
charged  with  murder,  the  negro  with  assault.  So,  you 
see,  Miss  Hope,  the  desperate  class  of  men  you  are 
now  associating  with." 

The  slight  bitterness  in  his  tone  stung  the  girl  Into 
resentment.  She  was  looking  straight  at  him,  but  in 
the  gloom  he  could  not  discern  the  expression  of  her 
eyes. 


114  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  I  don't  believe  It,"  she  exclaimed  decisively,  "  you 
—  you  do  not  look  like  that !  " 

"  My  appearance  may  be  sufficient  to  convince  you," 
he  returned,  rather  dryly,  "  but  would  weigh  little  before 
a  Western  court.  Unfortunately,  the  evidence  was 
strong  against  me;  or  would  have  been  had  the  case  ever 
come  to  a  trial.  The  strange  thing  about  it  was  that 
both  warrants  were  sworn  out  by  the  same  complain- 
ant, and  apparently  for  a  similar  purpose  — '  Black 
Bart '  Hawley." 

"What  purpose?  " 

"  To  keep  us  from  telling  what  we  knew  regarding  a 
certain  crime,  in  which  either  he,  or  some  of  his  inti- 
mate friends,  were  deeply  interested." 

"  But  it  would  all  come  out  at  the  trial,  would  n't 
it?" 

"  There  was  to  be  no  trial;  Judge  Lynch  settles  the 
majority  of  such  cases  out  here  at  present.  It  Is  ex- 
tremely simple.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  the  story." 
He  reviewed  briefly  those  occurrences  leading  directly 
up  to  his  arrest,  saying  little  regarding  the  horrors  of 
that  scene  witnessed  near  the  Cimmaron  Crossing,  but 
making  sufficiently  clear  his  very  slight  connection  with 
it,  and  the  reason  those  who  were  guilty  of  the  crime 
were  so  anxious  to  get  him  out  of  the  way.  She  listened 
intently,  asking  few  questions,  until  he  ended.     Then 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  SHADOWS     115 

they  both  looked  up,  conscious  that  dawn  was  becoming 
gray  in  the  east.  Keith's  first  thought  was  one  of  relief 
—  the  brightening  sky  showed  him  they  were  riding 
straight  north. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    FORD    OF   THE    ARKANSAS 

THEY  were  still  In  the  midst  of  the  yellow  feature- 
less plain,  but  the  weary  horses  had  slowed  down 
to  a  walk,  the  heavy  sand  retarding  progress.  It  was 
a  gloomy,  depressing  scene  In  the  spectral  gray  light, 
a  wide  circle  of  Intense  loneliness,  unbroken  by  either 
dwarfed  shrub  or  bunch  of  grass,  a  barren  expanse 
stretching  to  the  sky.  Vague  cloud  shadows  seemed  to 
flit  across  the  level  surface,  assuming  fantastic  shapes, 
but  all  of  the  same  dull  coloring.  Imperfect  and  un- 
finished. Nothing  seemed  tangible  or  real,  but  rather 
some  grotesque  picture  of  dehrlum,  ever  merging  Into 
another  yet  more  hideous.  The  very  silence  of  those 
surrounding  wastes  seemed  burdensome,  adding  im- 
measurably to  the  horror.  They  were  but  specks  crawl- 
ing underneath  the  sky  —  the  only  living,  moving  ob- 
jects In  all  that  immense  circle  of  desolation  and  death. 
Keith  turned  in  the  saddle,  looking  back  past  Neb 
—  who  swayed  in  his  seat,  with  head  lolling  on  his 
breast  as  though  asleep,  his  horse  plodding  after  the 
others  —  along  the  slight  trail  they  had  made  across 

ii6 


THE  FORD  OF  THE  ARKANSAS       117 

the  desert.  So  far  as  eye  could  reach  nothing  moved, 
nothing  apparently  existed.  Fronting  again  to  the  north 
he  looked  upon  the  same  grim  barrenness,  only  that 
far  off,  against  the  lighter  background  of  distant  sky, 
there  was  visible  a  faint  blur,  a  bluish  haze,  which 
he  beheved  to  be  the  distant  sand  dunes  bordering  the 
Arkansas.  The  intense  dreariness  of  it  all  left  a  feel- 
ing of  depression.  His  eyes  turned  and  regarded  the 
girl  riding  silently  beside  him.  The  same  look  of  de- 
pression was  visible  upon  her  face,  and  she  was  gazing 
off  into  the  dull  distance  with  lack-lustre  eyes,  her 
slender  form  leaning  forward,  her  hands  clasped  across 
the  pommel.  The  long  weariness  of  the  night  had 
left  traces  on  her  young  face,  robbing  it  of  some  of 
its  freshness,  yet  Keith  found  It  more  attractive  in 
the  growing  daylight  than  amid  the  lamp  shadows  of 
the  evening  before.  He  had  not  previously  realized  the 
peculiar  clearness  of  her  complexion,  the  rose  tint  show- 
ing through  the  olive  skin,  or  the  soft  and  silky  fine- 
ness of  her  hair,  which,  disarranged,  was  strangely  be- 
coming under  the  broad  brim  of  the  hat  she  wore,  drawn 
low  until  It  shadowed  her  eyes.  It  was  not  a  face  to  be 
easily  associated  with  frontier  concert  halls,  or  any 
surrender  to  evil;  the  chin  round  and  firm,  the  lips 
full,  yet  sufficiently  compressed;  the  whole  expression 
that  of  pure  and  dignified  womanhood.     She  puzzled 


ii8  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

him,  and  he  scarcely  knew  what  to  believe,  or  exactly 
how  to  act  toward  her. 

"  Our  friends  back  yonder  should  be  turning  out 
from  the  corral  by  now,"  he  said  finally,  anxious  to 
break  the  silence,  for  she  had  not  spoken  since  he 
ended  his  tale.  "  It  will  not  be  long  until  they  dis- 
cover Hawley's  predicament,  and  perhaps  the  welkin 
already  rings  with  profanity.  That  may  even  account 
for  the  blue  haze  out  yonder." 

She  turned  her  eyes  toward  him,  and  the  slightest 
trace  of  a  smile  appeared  from  out  the  depths  of 
their  weariness. 

"  If  they  would  only  remain  satisfied  with  that. 
Will  they  follow  us,  do  you  think?  And  are  we  far 
enough  away  by  this  time  to  be  safe?  " 

"  It  is  hardly  likely  they  will  let  us  escape  without 
a  chase,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  We  possess  too  much 
information  now  that  we  have  their  rendezvous  lo- 
cated, and  '  Black  Bart '  will  have  a  private  grudge 
to  revenge.  I  wonder  if  he  suspects  who  attacked 
him!  But  don't  worry,  Miss  Hope;  we  have  miles  the 
start,  and  the  wind  has  been  strong  enough  to  cover  our 
trail.     Do  you  see  that  dark  Irregularity  ahead?  " 

"Yes;  is  It  a  cloud?" 

"No;  the  Arkansas  sand  dunes.  I  am  going  to  try 
to    keep    the    horses    moving   until   we    arrive    there. 


THE  FORD  OF  THE  ARKANSAS       119 

Then  we  will  halt  and  eat  whatever  Neb  has  packed 
behind  him,  and  rest  for  an  hour  or  two.  You  look 
very  tired,  but  I  hope  you  can  keep  up  for  that  distance. 
We  shall  be  safely  out  of  sight  then." 

"Indeed,  I  am  tired;  the  strain  of  waiting  alone  in 
that  cabin,  and  all  that  happened  last  night,  have  tried 
me  severely.     But  —  but   I   can   go  through." 

Her  voice  proved  her  weakness,  although  it  was 
determined  enough,  and  Keith,  yielding  to  sudden  im- 
pulse, put  out  his  hand,  and  permitted  it  to  rest  upon 
hers,  clasped  across  the  pommel.  Her  eyes  drooped, 
but  there  was  no  change  of  posture. 

"  Your  nerve  is  all  right,"  he  said,  admiringly,  "  you 
have  shown  yourself  a  brave  girl." 

"  I  could  not  be  a  coward,  and  be  my  father's 
daughter,"  she  replied,  with  an  odd  accent  of  pride  in 
her  choking  voice,  "  but  I  have  been  afraid,  and  — 
and  I  am  still." 

"Of  what?  Surely,  not  that  those  fellows  will  ever 
catch  up  with  us?  " 

"  No,  I  hardly  know  what,  only  there  is  a  dread 
I  cannot  seem  to  shake  off,  as  if  some  evil  impended, 
the  coming  of  which  I  can  feel,  but  not  see.     Have 
you  ever  experienced  any  such  premonition?  " 
He  laughed,  withdrawing  his  hand. 

"  I  think  not.     I  am  far  too  prosaic  a  mortal  to  allow 


I20  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

dreams  to  worry  me.  So  far  I  have  discovered  suf- 
ficient trouble  in  real  life  to  keep  my  brain  active. 
Even  now  I  cannot  forget  how  hungry  I  am." 

She  did  not  answer,  comprehending  how  useless  it 
would  be  to  explain,  and  a  little  ashamed  of  her  own 
ill-defined  fears,  and  thus  they  rode  on  in  silence.  He 
did  not  notice  that  she  glanced  aside  at  him  shyly,  mark- 
ing the  outline  of  his  clear-cut  features,  silhouetted 
against  the  far-off  sky.  It  was  a  manly  face,  strong, 
alive,  full  of  character,  the  well-shaped  head  firmly 
poised,  the  broad  shoulders  squared  in  spite  of  the  long 
night  of  weary  exertion.  The  depths  of  her  eyes 
brightened  with  appreciation. 

"  I  believe  your  story,  Mr.  Keith,"  she  said  at  last 
softly. 

"My  story?"  questioningly,  and  turning  instantly 
toward  her. 

"Yes;  all  that  you  have  told  me  about  what  hap- 
pened." 

"Oh;  I  had  almost  forgotten  having  told  it,  but 
I  never  felt  any  doubt  but  what  you  would  believe.  I 
don't  think  I  could  He  to  you." 

It  was  no  compliment,  but  spoken  with  such  evident 
honesty  that  her  eyes  met  his  with  frankness. 

"There  could  be  no  necessity;  only  I  wanted  you 
to  know  that  I  trust  you,  and  am  grateful." 


THE  FORD  OF  THE  ARKANSAS       121 

She  extended  her  hand  this  time,  and  he  took  it 
within  his  own,  holding  it  firmly,  yet  without  knowing 
what  to  answer.  There  was  strong  impulse  within 
him  to  question  her,  to  learn  then  and  there  her  own 
life  story.  Yet,  somehow,  the  reticence  of  the  girl 
restrained  him;  he  could  not  deliberately  probe  beneath 
the  veil  she  kept  lowered  between  them.  Until  she 
chose  to  lift  it  herself  voluntarily,  he  possessed  no 
right  to  intrude.  The  gentlemanly  instincts  of  younger 
years  held  him  silent,  realizing  clearly  that  whatever 
secret  might  dominate  her  life,  it  was  hers  to  conceal 
just  so  long  as  she  pleased.  Out  of  this  swift  struggle 
of  repression  he  managed  to  say: 

"  I  appreciate  your  confidence,  and  mean  to  prove 
worthy.  Perhaps  some  day  I  can  bring  you  the 
proofs." 

"  I  need  none  other  than  your  own  word." 

"  Oh,  but  possibly  you  are  too  easily  convinced;  you 
believed  in  Hawley." 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly,  her  eyes  glowing,  her 
cheeks  flushed. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  slowly,  convincingly.  *'  I  know  I 
did;  I  —  I  was  so  anxious  to  be  helped,  but  —  but 
this  is  different." 

It  was  noon,  the  sun  pitiless  and  hot  above  them, 
before  they  straggled  within  the  partial  shelter  of  the 


122  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

sand  dunes,  and  sank  wearily  down  to  their  meagre 
lunch.  Their  supply  of  water  was  limited,  and  the 
exhausted  ponies  must  wait  until  they  reached  the  river 
to  quench  their  thirst.  Yet  this  was  not  very  far  off 
now,  and  Keith  had  seen  enough  of  their  surroundings 
to  locate  the  position  of  the  ford.  Slow  as  they  must 
proceed,  three  hours  more  would  surely  bring  them 
to  the  bank  of  the  stream.  They  discussed  their  plans 
briefly  as  the  three  sat  together  on  the  warm  sand, 
revived  both  by  the  food  and  the  brief  rest.  There  was 
not  a  great  deal  to  be  determined,  only  where  the 
girl  should  be  left,  and  how  the  two  men  had  better 
proceed  to  escape  observation. 

Fort  Larned  was  the  nearest  and  safest  place  for 
their  charge,  none  of  the  party  expressing  any  desire  to 
adventure  themselves  within  the  Immediate  neighbor- 
hood of  Carson  City.  What  her  future  plans  might 
be  were  not  revealed,  and  Keith  forebore  any  direct 
questioning.  His  duty  plainly  ended  with  placing  her 
in  a  safe  environment,  and  he  felt  convinced  that  Mrs. 
Murphy,  of  the  Occidental  Hotel,  would  furnish  room, 
and,  if  necessary,  companionship.  The  sole  problem 
remaining — after  she  had  rather  listlessly  agreed  to 
such  an  arrangement  —  was  to  so  plan  the  details  as 
to  permit  the  negro  and  himself  to  slip  through  the 
small  town  clustered  about  the  post  without  attract- 


THE  FORD  OF  THE  ARKANSAS       123 

ing  undue  attention.  No  doubt,  the  story  of  their 
escape  had  already  reached  there,  embellished  by 
telling,  and  serious  trouble  might  result  from  discovery. 
Keith  was  surprised  at  the  slight  Interest  she  exhibited  In 
these  arrangements,  merely  signifying  her  acquiescence 
by  a  word,  but  he  charged  It  to  physical  weariness,  and 
the  reaction  from  her  night  of  peril;  yet  he  took  pains 
to  explain  fully  his  plan,  and  to  gain  her  consent. 

This  finally  settled,  they  mounted  again  and  rode 
on  through  the  lanes  traversing  the  sand  dunes,  keeping 
headed  as  straight  as  possible  toward  the  river.  The 
ford  sought  was  some  miles  down  stream,  but  with  the 
horses'  thirst  mitigated,  they  made  excellent  progress, 
and  arrived  at  the  spot  early  In  the  evening.  Not  in  all 
the  day  had  they  encountered  a  living  object,  or  seen 
a  moving  thing  amid  the  surrounding  desolation.  Now, 
looking  across  to  the  north,  a  few  gleaming  lights  told 
of  Fort  Larned  perched  upon  the  opposite  bluffs. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   LANDLADY   OF   THE   OCCIDENTAL 

KEITH  had  crossed  at  this  point  so  frequently  with 
cattle  that,  once  having  his  bearings,  the  black- 
ness of  the  night  made  very  little  difference.  Never- 
theless, in  fear  lest  her  pony  might  stumble  over  some 
irregularity,  he  gave  his  own  rein  to  Neb,  and  went 
forward  on  foot,  grasping  firmly  the  tired  animal's  bit. 
It  was  a  long  stretch  of  sand  and  water  extending  from 
bank  to  bank,  but  the  latter  was  shallow,  the  only 
danger  being  that  of  straying  off  from  the  more  solid 
bottom  into  quicksand.  With  a  towering  cotton- 
wood  as  guide,  oddly  misshapen  and  standing  out 
gauntly  against  the  slightly  lighter  sky,  the  plainsman 
led  on  unhesitatingly,  until  they  began  to  climb  the 
rather  sharp  uplift  of  the  north  bank.  Here  there 
was  a  plain  trail,  pounded  into  smoothness  by  the  hoofs 
of  cavalry  horses  ridden  down  to  water,  and  at  the 
summit  they  emerged  within  fifty  yards  of  the  stables. 
The  few  lights  visible,  some  stationary,  with  others 
dancing  about  like  will-o'-the-wisps,  revealed  imper- 
fectly  the   contour   of   various   buildings,    but    Keith 

124 


THE  LANDLADY  125 

turned  sharply  to  the  right,  anxious  to  slip  past  with- 
out being  challenged  by  a  sentry.  Beyond  the  brow  of 
the  bluff  other  lights  now  became  visible,  flickering  here 
and  there,  marking  where  a  straggling  town  had  sprung 
up  under  the  protection  of  the  post  —  a  town  garish 
enough  in  the  daylight,  composed  mostly  of  shacks  and 
tents,  but  now  with  its  deficiencies  mercifully  concealed 
by  the  enveloping  darkness.  The  trail,  easily  followed, 
led  directly  along  its  single  street,  but  Keith  circled  the 
outskirts  through  a  wilderness  of  tin-cans  and  heaps 
of  other  debris,  until  he  halted  his  charges  beside  the 
black  shadow  of  the  only  two-story  edifice  in  the  place. 
This  was  the  Occidental,  the  hospitality  of  which  he 
had  frequently  tested. 

A  light  streamed  from  out  the  front  windows,  but, 
uncertain  who  might  be  harbored  within,  Keith  tapped 
gently  at  the  back  door.  It  was  not  opened  im- 
mediately, and  when  it  was  finally  shoved  aside  the 
merest  crack,  no  glow  of  light  revealed  the  darkened  in- 
terior. The  voice  which  spoke,  however,  was  amply 
sufficient  to  identify  its  owner. 

"  Is  that  ye  agin.  Murphy,  a  playin'  av  yer  dirthy 
thricks?  " 

"  No,  Mrs.  Murphy,"  he  hastened  to  explain,  "  this 
is  Keith  —  Jack  Keith,  of  the  '  Bar  X.'  " 

"  The  Lord  deliver  us  1  "  was  the  instant  exclama- 


126  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

tion,  the  door  opening  wide.  "  They  do  be  afther  tellln' 
me  to-night  av  the  throuble  ye  was  In  over  at  Carson,  an' 
OI  t'ought  maybe  ye  molght  turn  up  this  way.  It  was 
a  nate  thrick  ye  played  on  the  lolkes  av  'em,  Jack, 
but  this  Is  a  dom  poor  place  fer  ye  ter  hide  In.  Bedad, 
there  's  a  half-dozen  In  the  parly  now  talkin'  about  It, 
wid  a  couple  av  officers  from  the  fort.  Is  the  nager 
wid  ye?  " 

"  Yes,  but  we  have  no  intention  of  hiding  here.  I  'd 
rather  take  my  chance  in  the  open.  The  fact  Is,  Kate, 
we  started  off  for  the  '  Bar  X.'  " 

"  Av  course,  ye  did;  01  was  shure  av  it." 

"  But  down  on  the  Salt  Fork  we  ran  across  a  young 
girl  whom  Black  Bart  had  inveigled  down  that  way 
on  a  lie.  We  had  a  bit  of  a  fight,  and  got  her  away 
from  him.  This  is  what  brought  us  back  here  —  to 
put  the  girl  where  she  will  be  safe  out  of  his  clutches." 

The  door  was  wide  open  now,  and  Mrs.  Murphy 
outside,  her  Interest  at  fever  heat. 

"Ye  had  a  folght  wid  Black  Bart!  Oh,  ye  divlll 
An'  ye  licked  the  dirthy  spalpane,  an'  got  away  wid 
his  gyurl!  Glory  be  1  And  would  01  take  her?  Well, 
01  would.  NIver  doubt  that,  me  bye.  She  may  be  the 
quane  av  Shaba,  an'  she  may  be  a  Digger  Injun  Squaw, 
but  the  lolkes  av  him  had  betther  kape  away  from  Kate 


THE  LANDLADY  127 

Murphy.  It's  glad  Oi  am  ter  do  it!  Bring  her  in. 
Oi  don't  want  ter  hear  no  more." 

"  Just  a  word,  Kate;  I  don't  know  whether  she  has 
any  money  or  not,  but  I  '11  pay  her  bill,  as  soon  as  it 
is  safe  for  me  to  come  back." 

"  Oh,  the  divil  take  her  bill.  She  '11  have  the  best 
in  the  house,  annyhow,  an'  Oi  'm  only  hopin'  that  fel- 
low will  turn  up  huntin'  her.  Oi  'd  loike  ter  take  one 
slap  at  the  spalpane." 

Fully  convinced  as  to  Mrs.  Murphy's  good-will, 
Keith  slipped  back  into  the  darkness,  and  returned  with 
the  girl.  Introductions  were  superfluous,  as  the  mis- 
tress of  the  Occidental  cared  little  regarding  ceremony. 

"  An'  is  this  you,  my  dear?  "  she  burst  out,  endeavor- 
ing to  curb  her  voice  to  secretive  softness.  "  Shure, 
Jack  Keith  has  told  me  all  about  it,  an'  it 's  safe  it  is  yer 
goin'  ter  be  here.  Come  on  in;  Oi  '11  give  ye  number 
forty-two,  thet  's  next  behint  me  own  room,  an'  we  '11  go 
up  the  back  sthairs.  Hilp  the  young  loidy,  Jack,  fer 
shure  ye  know  the  way." 

She  disappeared,  evidently  with  some  hospitable  pur- 
pose in  view,  and  Keith,  clasping  the  girl's  hand,  under- 
took the  delicate  task  of  safely  escorting  her  through 
the  dark  kitchen,  and  up  the  dimly  remembered  stairs. 
Only  a  word  or  two  passed  between  them,  but  as  they 


128  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

neared  the  second  story  a  light  suddenly  streamed  out 
through  the  opened  door  of  a  room  at  their  left.  Mrs. 
Murphy  greeted  them  at  the  landing,  and  for  the  first 
time  saw  the  girl's  weary  white  face,  her  eyes  filled  with 
appeal,  and  the  warm  Irish  heart  responded  instantly. 

"Ye  poor  little  lamb;  it's  the  bid  ye  want,  an'  a 
dhrap  o'  whiskey.  Jack  Keith,  why  did  n't  ye  till  me 
she  was  done  up  wid  the  hard  ride?  Here,  honey, 
sit  down  in  the  rocker  till  Oi  get  ye  a  wee  dhrink.  It  '11 
bring  the  roses  back  to  the  cheeks  av  ye."  She  was 
gone,  bustling  down  the  dark  stairs,  and  the  two  were 
alone  in  the  room,  the  girl  looking  up  into  his  face,  her 
head  resting  against  the  cushioned  back  of  the  chair. 
He  thought  he  saw  a  glimmer  of  tears  in  the  depths  of 
her  lash-shaded  eyes,  and  her  round  white  throat  seemed 
to  choke. 

"  You  will  be  perfectly  secure  here,"  he  said,  sooth- 
ingly, "  and  can  remain  as  long  as  you  please.  Mrs. 
Murphy  will  guard  you  as  though  you  were  her  own 
daughter.  She  is  a  bit  rough,  maybe,  but  a  big- 
hearted  woman,  and  despises  Hawley.  She  nursed 
me  once  through  a  touch  of  typhoid  —  yes,  by  Jove," 
glancing  about  in  sudden  recognition,  "  and  in  this  very 
room,  too." 

The  girl's  glance  wandered  over  the  plain,  neat 
furnishings,     and    the     rather    pathetic     attempts     at 


THE  LANDLADY  129 

decoration,  yet  with  apparently  no  thought  for 
them. 

"  You  —  you  have  not  told  me  where  you  were  go- 
ing." 

He  laughed,  a  little  uneasily,  as  though  he  preferred 
to  make  light  of  the  whole  matter. 

"  Really,  I  have  hardly  decided,  the  world  is  so  wide, 
and  I  had  no  reason  to  suppose  you  interested." 

"  But  I  am  interested,"  resenting  his  tone  of  assumed 
indifference.  "  I  would  not  want  to  feel  that  our  ac- 
quaintance was  to  wholly  end  now." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that?  " 

"  Why  should  I  not?  You  have  been  a  real  friend 
to  me;  I  shall  remember  you  always  with  a  gratitude 
beyond  words.  I  want  you  to  know  this,  and  that  — 
that  I  shall  ever  wish  to  retain  that  friendship." 

Keith  struggled  with  himself,  doubtful  of  what  he 
had  best  say,  swayed  by  unfamiliar  emotions. 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  shall  never  forget,"  he  blurted 
forth,  desperately,  "  and,  if  you  really  wish  it,  I  '11  cer- 
tainly see  you  again." 

"  I  do,"  earnestly. 

"  Then,  I  '11  surely  find  a  way.  I  don't  know  now 
which  direction  we  will  ride,  but  I  'm  not  going  very 
far  until  I  clear  up  that  murder  out  yonder  on  the 
trail;  that  is  my  particular  job  just  now." 


I30  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

Before  she  could  answer,  Mrs.  Murphy  reentered, 
and  forced  her  to  drink  the  concoction  prepared,  the 
girl  accepting  with  smiling  protest.  The  landlady, 
empty  glass  In  hand,  swept  her  eyes  about  the  room. 

"  Bedad,  but  the  place  looks  betther  than  iver  Oi  'd 
belaved,  wid  the  gyurl  Oi  've  got  tindin'  to  it.  She  's 
that  lazy  she  goes  ter  slape  swapin'  the  flure.  Jack, 
would  ye  moind  hilpin'  me  move  the  bid;  shure,  it's 
rale  mahogany,  an'  so  heavy  it  breaks  me  back  In- 
toirely  to  push  it  'round." 

He  took  hold  willingly  enough,  and  the  two  to- 
gether ran  the  heavy  contrivance  across  the  room  to  the 
position  selected.  Once  a  leg  caught  in  the  rag  car- 
pet, and  Keith  lifted  it  out,  bending  low  to  get  a  firmer 
grip.     Then  he  held  out  his  hand  to  the  girl. 

*'  It  is  not  going  to  be  good-bye  then,  Miss  Hope; 
I  '11  find  you." 

She  smiled  up  into  his  eyes,  much  of  the  weariness 
gone  from  her  face. 

"  I  am  going  to  believe  that,"  she  answered,  gladly, 
"  because  I  want  to." 

Mrs.  Murphy  lingered  until  his  steps  sounded  on  the 
stairs,  as  he  slowly  felt  his  way  down  through  the  dark- 
ness. 

"He  do  be  a  moighty  foine  bye.  Jack  Keith,"  she 
said,  apparently  addressing  the  side  wall.      "  Oi  wish 


THE  LANDLADY  131 

Oi  'd  a  knowed  him  whin  Oi  was  a  gyurl;  shure,  it 's 
not  Murphy  me  noime  'd  be  now,  OI  'm  t'inkin'." 

Left  alone,  the  girl  bowed  her  head  on  her  hands, 
a  hot  tear  stealing  down  through  her  fingers.  As  she 
glanced  up  again,  something  that  glittered  on  the  floor 
beside  the  bed  caught  her  eyes.  She  stopped  and  picked 
it  up,  holding  the  trinket  to  the  light,  staring  at  It  as 
though  fascinated.  It  was  the  locket  Keith  had  taken 
from  the  neck  of  the  dead  man  at  CImmaron  Crossing. 
Her  nerveless  fingers  pressed  the  spring,  and  the  painted 
face  within  looked  up  Into  her  own,  and  still  clasping 
It  within  her  hand,  she  sank  upon  her  knees,  burying 
her  face  on  the  bed. 

"  Where  did  he  get  that?  "  her  lips  kept  repeating. 
"  Where  did  he  ever  get  that?  " 


CHAPTER  XV 

AGAIN   CHRISTIE   MACLAIRE 

KEITH  possessed  sufficient  means  for  several 
months  of  idleness,  and  even  if  he  had  not,  his 
reputation  as  a  plains  scout  would  insure  him  employ- 
ment at  any  of  the  more  important  scattered  army  posts. 
Reliable  men  for  such  service  were  in  demand.  The 
restlessness  of  the  various  Indian  tribes,  made  specially 
manifest  by  raids  on  the  more  advanced  settlements, 
and  extending  over  a  constantly  widening  territory,  re- 
quired continuous  interchange  of  communication  be- 
tween commanders  of  detachments.  Bold  and  reckless 
spirits  had  flocked  to  the  frontier  in  those  days  follow- 
ing the  Civil  War,  yet  all  were  not  of  the  type  to  en- 
courage confidence  in  mihtary  authorities.  Keith  had 
already  frequently  served  in  this  capacity,  and  abun- 
dantly proved  his  worth  under  rigorous  demands  of  both 
endurance  and  intelligence,  and  he  could  feel  assured 
of  permanent  employment  whenever  desired.  Not  a 
few  of  the  more  prominent  officers  he  had  met  per- 
sonally during  the  late  war  —  including  Sheridan,  to 
whom  he  had  once  borne  a  flag  of  truce, —  yet  the  spirit 

132 


AGAIN  CHRISTIE  MACLAIRE         133 

of  the  Confederacy  still  lingered  In  his  heart:  not  In 
any  feeling  of  either  hatred  or  revenge,  but  In  an  un- 
willingness to  serve  the  blue  uniform,  and  a  memory 
of  antagonism  which  would  not  entirely  disappear.  He 
had  surrendered  at  Appomattox,  conquered,  yet  he 
could  not  quite  adjust  himself  to  becoming  companion- 
in-arms  with  those  against  whom  he  had  fought  val- 
iantly for  four  years.  Some  of  the  wounds  of  that 
conflict  still  smarted.  A  natural  soldier,  anxious  to  help 
the  harassed  settlers,  eager  enough  to  be  actively  em- 
ployed, he  still  held  aloof  from  army  connections  ex- 
cept as  a  volunteer  in  case  of  emergency. 

Just  now  other  considerations  caused  him  to  desire 
freedom.  He  had  been  accused  of  murder,  imprisoned 
for  it,  and  in  order  to  escape,  had  been  compelled  to 
steal  horses,  the  most  heinous  crime  of  the  frontier. 
Not  only  for  his  own  protection  and  safety  must  the 
truth  of  that  occurrence  at  the  Cimmaron  Crossing  be 
made  clear,  but  he  also  had  now  a  personal  affair  with 
*'  Black  Bart "  Hawley  to  be  permanently  settled. 
They  had  already  clashed  twice,  and  Keith  intended 
they  should  meet  again. 

Memory  of  the  girl  was  still  in  his  mind  as  he  and 
Neb  rode  silently  forth  on  the  black  prairie,  leading 
the  extra  horse  behind  them.  He  endeavored  to  drive 
the  recollection  from  his  mind,  so  he  might  concentrate 


134  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

it  upon  plans  for  the  future,  but  somehow  she  mys- 
teriously wove  her  own  personahty  into  those  plans, 
and  he  was  ever  seeing  the  pleading  in  her  eyes,  and 
listening  to  the  soft  Southern  accent  of  her  voice.  Of 
late  years  he  had  been  unaccustomed  to  association  with 
women  of  high  type,  and  there  was  that  touch  of  the 
gentlewoman  about  this  girl  which  had  awakened  deep 
interest.  Of  course  he  knew  that  in  her  case  it  was 
merely  an  inheritance  of  her  past,  and  could  not  truly 
represent  the  present  Christie  Maclaire  of  the  music 
halls.  However  fascinating  she  might  be,  she  could 
not  be  worthy  any  serious  consideration.  In  spite  of 
his  rough  life  the  social  spirit  of  the  old  South  was 
implanted  in  his  blood,  and  no  woman  of  that  class 
could  hold  him  captive.  Yet,  some  way,  she  refused  to 
be  banished  or  left  behind.  Even  Neb  must  have  been 
obsessed  by  a  similar  spirit,  for  he  suddenly  observed: 

"  Dat  am  sutt'nly  a  mighty  fine  gal,  Massa  Jack.  I 
ain't  seen  nothin'  to  compare  wid  her  since  I  quit  ol' 
Virginia  — 'deed  I  ain't." 

Keith  glanced  back  at  his  black  satellite,  barely  able 
to  distinguish  the  fellow's  dim  outlines. 

"  You  think  her  a  lady,  then?  "  he  questioned,  giv- 
ing thoughtless  utterance  to  his  own  imagination. 

"'Deed  I  does!"  the  thick  voice  somewhat  indig- 


AGAIN  CHRISTIE  MACLAIRE         135 

nant.  "  I  reck'n  I  knows  de  real  quality  when  I  sees  it. 
I  'se  'sociated  wid  quality  white  folks  befo'." 

"  But,  Neb,  she  's  a  singer  in  dance  halls." 

*'  I  don't  believe  it,  Massa  Jack." 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  if  I  could  help  it.  She  don't 
seem  like  that  kind,  but  I  recognized  her  as  soon  as 
I  got  her  face  in  the  light.  She  was  at  the  Gaiety  In 
Independence,  the  last  time  I  was  there.  Hawley  knew 
her  too,  and  called  her  by  name." 

Neb  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  slapped  his  pony's  flank, 
unable  to  answer,  yet  still  unconvinced. 

"  I  reck'n  both  ob  yer  might  be  mistook,"  he  insisted 
doggedly. 

"  Not  likely,"  and  Keith's  brief  laugh  was  not  al- 
together devoid  of  bitterness.  "  We  both  called  her 
Christie  Maclaire,  and  she  didn't  even  deny  the  name; 
she  was  evidently  not  proud  of  it,  but  there  was  no 
denial  that  she  was  the  girl." 

"  Dat  was  n't  like  no  name  dat  you  called  her  when 
we  was  ridin'." 

"  No;  she  did  n't  approve  of  the  other,  and  told  me 
to  call  her  Hope,  but  I  reckon  she  's  Christie  Maclaire 
all  right." 

They  rode  on  through  the  black,  silent  night  as 
rapidly  as  their  tired  horses  would  consent  to  travel. 


136  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

Keith  led  directly  across  the  open  prairie,  guiding  his 
course  by  the  stars,  and  purposely  avoiding  the  trails, 
where  some  suspicious  eye  might  mark  their  passage. 
His  first  object  was  to  get  safely  away  from  the  scat- 
tered settlements  lying  east  of  Carson  City.  Beyond 
their  radius  he  could  safely  dispose  of  the  horses  they 
rode,  disappear  from  view,  and  find  time  to  develop 
future  plans.  As  to  the  girl  —  well,  he  would  keep 
his  word  with  her,  of  course,  and  see  her  again  some- 
time. There  would  be  no  difficulty  about  that,  but 
otherwise  she  should  retain  no  influence  over  him.  She 
belonged  rather  to  Hawley's  class  than  his. 

It  was  a  lonely,  tiresome  ride,  during  which  Neb 
made  various  efforts  to  talk,  but  finding  his  white  com- 
panion uncommunicative,  at  last  relapsed  into  rather 
sullen  silence.  The  horses  plodded  on  steadily,  and 
when  daylight  finally  dawned,  the  two  men  found  them- 
selves In  a  depression  leading  down  to  the  Smoky  River. 
Here  they  came  to  a  water  hole,  where  they  could  safely 
hide  themselves  and  their  stock.  With  both  Indians 
and  white  men  to  be  guarded  against,  they  took  all  the 
necessary  precautions,  picketing  the  horses  closely  under 
the  rock  shadows,  and  not  venturing  upon  building  any 
fire.  Neb  threw  himself  on  the  turf  and  was  instantly 
asleep,  but  Keith  climbed  the  steep  side  of  the  gully,  and 
made  searching  survey  of  the  horizon.     The  wide  arc 


AGAIN  CHRISTIE  MACLAIRE  137 

to  south,  east,  and  west  revealed  nothing  to  his  search- 
ing eyes,  except  the  dull  brown  of  the  slightly  rolling 
plains,  with  no  life  apparent  save  some  distant  graz- 
ing antelope,  but  to  the  north  extended  more  broken 
country  with  a  faint  glimmer  of  water  between  the 
hills.  Satisfied  they  were  unobserved,  he  slid  back  again 
into  the  depression.  As  he  turned  to  lie  down  he  took 
hold  of  the  saddle  belonging  to  Hawley's  horse.  In 
the  unbuckled  holster  his  eye  observed  the  glimmer  of 
a  bit  of  white  paper.  He  drew  it  forth,  and  gazed  at  it 
unthinkingly.  It  was  an  envelope,  robbed  of  its  con- 
tents, evidently  not  sent  through  the  mails  as  it  had  not 
been  stamped,  but  across  its  face  was  plainly  written, 
"  Miss  Christie  Maclaire."  He  stared  at  it,  his  lips 
firm  set,  his  gray  eyes  darkening.  If  he  possessed  any 
doubts  before  as  to  her  Identity,  they  were  all  thoroughly 
dissipated  now. 

As  he  lay  there,  with  head  pillowed  on  the  saddle, 
his  body  aching  from  fatigue  yet  totally  unable  to 
sleep,  staring  open-eyed  Into  the  blue  of  the  sky,  the  girl 
they  had  left  behind  awoke  from  uneasy  slumber, 
aroused  by  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Murphy.  For  an  In- 
stant she  failed  to  comprehend  her  position,  but  the 
strong  brogue  of  the  energetic  landlady  broke  in 
sharply : 


138  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  A  bit  av  a  cup  av  coffee  fer  ye,  honey,"  she  ex- 
plained, crossing  to  the  bed.  "  Shure  an'  there 's 
nuthin'  loilce  it  when  ye  first  wake  up.  Howly  Mither, 
but  it 's  toird  'nough  ye  do  be  lookin'  yet." 

"  I  have  n't  slept  very  well,"  the  girl  confessed, 
bringing  her  hand  out  from  beneath  the  coverlet,  the 
locket  still  tightly  clasped  in  her  fingers.  "  See,  I 
found  this  on  the  floor  last  night  after  you  had  gone 
down  stairs." 

"  Ye  did!  "  setting  the  coffee  on  a  convenient  chair, 
and  reaching  out  for  the  trinket.  "  Let 's  have  a  look 
at  it  once.  Angels  av  Hiven,  if  it  is  n't  the  same  the 
ol'  Gineral  was  showih'  me  in  the  parly." 

The  other  sat  up  suddenly,  her  white  shoulders  and 
rounded  throat  gleaming. 

"The  old  General,  you  said?  What  General? 
When  was  he  here?  " 

"  Shure  now,  be  aisy,  honey,  an'  Oi  '11  tell  ye  all  there 
is  to  it.  It 's  not  his  name  Oi  know ;  maybe  Oi  niver 
heard  till  av  it,  but  't  was  the  '  Gineral '  they  called 
him,  all  right.  He  was  here  maybe  three  days  out- 
fittin' —  a  noice  spoken  ol'  glntlemin,  wid  a  gray  beard, 
an'  onc't  he  showed  me  the  locket  —  be  the  powers, 
if  it  do  be  his,  there  's  an  openin'  to  it,  an'  a  picter 
inside." 

The   girl   touched   the   spring,    revealing   the    face 


AGAIN  CHRISTIE  MACLAIRE         139 

within,  but  her  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears.  The 
landlady  looked  at  her  in  alarm. 

"What  is  it,  honey?  What  is  it?  Did  you  know 
him?" 

The  slender  form  swayed  forward,  shaken  with  sobs. 

"  He  was  my  father,  and  —  and  this  is  my  mother's 
picture  which  he  always  carried." 

"  Then  what  is  your  name?  " 

"  Hope  Waite." 

Kate  Murphy  looked  at  the  face  half  hidden  in  the 
bed-clothes.  That  was  not  the  name  which  Keith  had 
given  her,  but  she  had  lived  on  the  border  too  long 
to  be  Inquisitive.  The  other  hfted  her  head,  flinging 
back  her  loosened  hair  with  one  hand. 

"  Mr.  Keith  dropped  it,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Where 
do  you  suppose  he  got  it?  "  Then  she  gave  a  quick, 
startled  cry,  her  eyes  opening  wide  in  horror.  "  The 
Cimmaron  Crossing,  the  murder  at  the  Cimmaron 
Crossing!  He  —  he  told  me  about  that;  but  he  never 
showed  me  this  —  this.     Do  you  —  do  you  think  — " 

Her  voice  failed,  but  Kate  Murphy  gathered  her  into 
her  arms. 

"  Cry  here,  honey,"  she  said,  as  if  to  a  child. 
"  Shure-  an'  Oi  don't  know  who  it  was  got  kilt  out  yon- 
der, but  Oi  'm  tellin'  ye  it  niver  was  Jack  Keith  what  did 
it  —  murther  ain't  his  stoyle.'^ 


CHAPTER  XVI 

INTRODUCING   DOCTOR   FAIRBAIN 

T  TEADED  as  they  were,  and  having  no  other  spe- 
■*-  -■-  clal  objective  point  In  view,  it  was  only  natural 
for  the  two  fugitives  to  drift  into  Sheridan.  This  was 
at  that  time  the  human  cesspool  of  the  plains  country, 
a  seething,  boiling  maelstrom  of  all  that  was  rough, 
evil,  and  brazen  along  the  entire  frontier.  Custom- 
arily quiet  enough  during  the  hours  of  daylight,  the 
town  became  a  mad  saturnalia  with  the  approach  of 
darkness,  Its  ceaseless  orgies  being  noisily  continued 
until  dawn.  But  at  this  period  all  track  work  on  the 
Kansas  Pacific  being  temporarily  suspended  by  Indian 
outbreaks,  the  graders  made  both  night  and  day  alike 
hideous,  and  the  single  dirty  street  which  composed 
Sheridan,  lined  with  shacks,  crowded  with  saloons,  the 
dull  dead  prairie  stretching  away  on  every  side  to  the 
horizon,  was  congested  with  humanity  during  every 
hour  of  the  twenty-four. 

It  was  a  grim  picture  of  depravity  and  desolation, 
the  environment  dull,  gloomy,  forlorn;  all  that  was 
worthy  the  eye  or  thought  being  the  pulsing  human 

140 


INTRODUCING  DOCTOR  FAIRBAIN     141 

element.  All  about  extended  the  barren  plains,  except 
where  on  one  side  a  ravine  cut  through  an  overhanging 
ridge.  From  the  seething  street  one  could  look  up  to 
the  summit,  and  see  there  the  graves  of  the  many  who 
had  died  deaths  of  violence,  and  been  borne  thither  in 
"  their  boots."  Amid  all  this  surrounding  desolation 
was  Sheridan  —  the  child  of  a  few  brief  months  of 
existence,  and  destined  to  perish  almost  as  quickly  — 
the  centre  of  the  grim  picture,  a  mere  cluster  of  rude, 
unpainted  houses,  poorly  erected  shacks,  grimy  tents 
flapping  in  the  never  ceasing  wind  swirling  across  the 
treeless  waste,  the  ugly  red  station,  the  rough  cow- 
pens  filled  with  lowing  cattle,  the  huge,  ungainly  stores, 
their  false  fronts  decorated  by  amateur  wielders  of  the 
paint  brush,  and  the  garish  dens  of  vice  tucked  in  every- 
where. The  pendulum  of  life  never  ceased  swing- 
ing. Society  was  mixed;  no  man  cared  who  his  neigh- 
bor was,  or  dared  to  question.  Of  women  worthy  the 
name  there  were  few,  yet  there  were  flitting  female 
forms  in  plenty,  the  saloon  lights  revealing  powdered 
cheeks  and  painted  eyebrows.  It  was  a  strange,  restless 
populace,  the  majority  here  to-day,  disappearing  to-mor- 
row —  cowboys,  half-breeds,  trackmen,  graders,  des- 
peradoes, gamblers,  saloon-keepers,  merchants,  gen- 
erally Jewish,  petty  officials,  and  a  riff-raff  no  one 
could  account  for,  mere  floating  debris.     The  town  was 


142  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

an  eddy  catching  odd  bits  of  driftwood  such  as  only 
the  frontier  ever  knew.  Queer  characters  were  every- 
where, wrecks  of  dissipation,  derelicts  of  the  East,  seek- 
ing nothing  save  oblivion. 

Everything  was  primitive  —  passion  and  pleasure 
ruled.  To  spend  easily  made  money  noisily,  brazenly, 
was  the  ideal.  From  dawn  to  dawn  the  search  after 
joy  continued.  The  bagnios  and  dance  halls  were 
ablaze;  the  bar-rooms  crowded  with  hilarious  or  quar- 
relsome humanity,  the  gambling  tables  alive  with  ex- 
citement. Men  swaggered  along  the  streets  looking 
for  trouble,  and  generally  finding  it;  cowboys  rode 
into  open  saloon  doors  and  drank  in  the  saddle;  troops 
of  congenial  spirits,  frenzied  with  liquor,  spurred  reck- 
lessly through  the  street  firing  into  the  air,  or  the  crowd, 
as  their  whim  led;  bands  played  popular  airs  on 
balconies,  and  innumerable  "  barkers "  added  their 
honeyed  Invitations  to  the  perpetual  din.  From  end 
to  end  it  was  a  saturnalia  of  vice,  a  babel  of  sound, 
a  glimpse  of  the  Inferno.  Money  flowed  like  water; 
every  man  was  his  own  law,  and  the  gun  the  arbiter 
of  destiny.  The  town  marshal,  with  a  few  cool- 
headed  deputies,  moved  here  and  there  amid  the  chaos, 
patient,  tireless,  undaunted,  seeking  merely  to  exercise 
some  slight  restraint.     This  was  Sheridan. 

Into  the   one  long  street  just  at   dusk   rode   Keith 


INTRODUCING  DOCTOR  FAIRBAIN     143 

and  Neb,  the  third  horse  trailing  behind.  Already 
lights  were  beginning  to  gleam  in  the  crowded  saloons, 
and  they  were  obliged  to  proceed  slowly.  Leaving 
the  negro  at  the  corral  to  find  some  purchaser  for  the 
animals,  and  such  accommodations  for  himself  as  he 
could  achieve,  Keith  shouldered  his  way  on  foot  through 
the  heterogeneous  mass  toward  the  only  hotel,  a  long 
two-storied  wooden  structure,  unpainted,  fronting  the 
glitter  of  the  Pioneer  Dance  Hall  opposite.  A  noisy 
band  was  splitting  the  air  with  discordant  notes,  a  loud- 
voiced  "  barker  "  yelling  through  the  uproar,  but  Keith, 
accustomed  to  similar  scenes  and  sounds  elsewhere, 
strode  through  the  open  door  of  the  hotel,  and  guided 
by  the  noisy,  continuous  clatter  of  dishes,  easily  found 
his  way  to  the  dining-room.  It  was  crowded  with 
men,  a  few  women  scattered  here  and  there,  most  of  the 
former  In  shirt-sleeves,  all  eating  silently.  A  few 
smaller  tables  at  the  back  of  the  room  were  dis- 
tinguished from  the  others  by  white  coverings  In  place 
of  oil-cloth,  evidently  reserved  for  the  more  distin- 
guished guests.  Disdaining  ceremony,  the  newcomer 
wormed  his  way  through,  finally  discovering  a  vacant 
seat  where  his  back  would  be  to  the  wall,  thus  enabling 
him  to  survey  the  entire  apartment. 

It  was  not  of  great  Interest,  save  for  its  constant 
change  and  the  primitive  manner  in  which  the  majority 


144  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

attacked  their  food  supply,  which  was  piled  helter- 
skelter  upon  the  long  tables,  yet  he  ran  his  eyes  search- 
ingly  over  the  numerous  faces,  seeking  impartially  for 
either  friend  or  enemy.  No  countenance  present,  as 
revealed  in  the  dim  light  of  the  few  swinging  lamps, 
appeared  familiar,  and  satisfied  that  he  remained  un- 
known, Keith  began  devoting  his  attention  to  the 
dishes  before  him,  mentally  expressing  his  opinion  as 
to  their  attractiveness.  Chancing  finally  to  again  lift 
his  eyes,  he  met  the  gaze  of  a  man  sitting  directly 
opposite,  a  man  who  somehow  did  not  seem  exactly  in 
harmony  with  his  surroundings.  He  was  short  and 
stockily  built,  with  round  rosy  face,  and  a  perfect 
shock  of  wiry  hair  brushed  back  from  a  broad  fore- 
head ;  his  nose  wide  but  stubby,  and  chin  massive.  Ap- 
parently he  was  between  forty  and  fifty  years  of  age, 
exceedingly  well  dressed,  his  gray  eyes  shrewd  and  full 
of  a  grim  humor.  Keith  observed  all  this  in  a  glance, 
becoming  aware  at  the  same  time  that  his  neighbor 
was  apparently  studying  him  also.  The  latter  broke 
silence  with  a  quick,  jerky  utterance,  which  seemed  to 
peculiarly  fit  his  personal  appearance. 

"  Damn  It  all  —  know  you,  sir  —  sure  I  do  —  but 
for  life  of  me  can't  tell  where." 

Keith  stared  across  at  him  more  searchingly,  and 
replied,  rather  indifferently: 


INTRODUCING  DOCTOR  FAIRBAIN     145 

"  Probably  a  mistake  then,  as  I  have  no  recollec- 
tion of  your  face." 

*'  Never  make  a  mistake,  sir  —  never  forget  a  face," 
the  other  snapped  with  some  show  of  indignation,  his 
hands  now  clasped  on  the  table,  one  stubby  forefinger 
pointed,  as  he  leaned  forward.  "  Don't  tell  me  — 
I  Ve  seen  you  somewhere  —  no,  not  a  word  —  don't 
even  tell  me  your  name  —  I  'm  going  to  think  of  it." 

Keith  smiled,  not  unwilling  to  humor  the  man's  ec- 
centricity, and  returned  to  his  meal,  with  only  an  occa- 
sional inquiring  glance  across  the  table.  The  other 
sat  and  stared  at  him,  his  heavy  eyebrows  wrinkled, 
as  he  struggled  to  awaken  memory.  The  younger  man 
had  begun  on  his  pie  when  the  face  opposite  suddenly 
cleared. 

"Damn  me,  I've  got  it  —  hell,  yes;  hospital  tent 
—  Shenandoah  —  bullet  imbedded  under  third  rib  — 
ordinary  case  —  that 's  why  I  forgot  —  clear  as  mud 
now  —  get  the  name  in  a  minute  —  Captain  —  Captain 
Keith  —  that 's  it  —  shake  hands." 

Puzzled  at  the  unexpected  recognition,  yet  realizing 
the  friendliness  of  the  man,  Keith  grasped  the  pudgy 
fingers  extended  with  some  cordiality. 

"  Don't  remember  me  I  s'pose  —  don't  think  you 

ever  saw  me  —  delirious  when  I  came  —  hate  to  tell 

you  what  you  was  talking  about  —  gave  you  hypo- 
10 


146  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

dermic  first  thing  —  behaved  well  enough  though  when 
I  dug  out  the  lead  — Minle  bullet,  badly  blunted  hit- 
ting the  rib  —  thought  you  might  die  with  blood  poison 

—  could  n't  stay  to  see  —  too  damn  much  to  do  —  evi- 
dently did  n't  though  —  remember  me  now?  " 

"  No,  only  from  what  you  say.  You  must  have  been 
at  General  Walte's  headquarters." 

"That's  It  —  charge   of  Stonewall's  field  hospital 

—  just  happened  to  ride  Into  Walte's  camp  that  night 

—  damn  lucky  for  you  I  did  —  young  snip  there  wanted 
to  saw  the  bone  —  I  stopped  that  —  liked  your  face 

—  imagined  you  might  be  worth  saving  —  ain't  so 
sure  of  it  now,  or  you  would  n't  be  out  in  this  God 
forsaken  country,  eating  such  grub  —  my  name  's  Fair- 
bain  —  Joseph  Wright  Falrbain,  M.D. —  contract  sur- 
geon for  the  railroad  —  working  on  the  line?  " 

Keith  shook  his  head,  feeling  awakening  Interest  in 
his  peculiar  companion. 

"No;  just  drifted  In  here  from  down  on  the 
Arkansas,"  he  explained,  briefly.  "  Did  you  know 
General  Walte  was  dead?  " 

The  doctor's  ruddy  face  whitened. 

"Dead?  — Willis  Waite  dead?"  he  repeated. 
"  What  do  you  mean,  sir?     Are  you  sure?     When?  " 

"  I  ought  to  be  sure;  I  burled  him  just  this  side  the 
Cimmaron  Crossing  out  on  the  Santa  Fe  trail." 


INTRODUCING  DOCTOR  FAIRBAIN     147 

"But  do  you  know  it  was  General  Walte?"  the 
man's  Insistent  tone  full  of  doubt. 

"  I  have  no  question  about  it,"  returned  Keith,  con- 
clusively. "  The  man  was  Waite's  size  and  general 
appearance,  with  gray  beard,  similar  to  the  one  I  re- 
member he  wore  during  the  war.  He  had  been  scalped, 
and  his  face  beaten  beyond  recognition,  but  papers  in 
his  pockets  were  sufficient  to  prove  his  identity.  Be- 
sides, he  and  his  companion  —  a  young  fellow  named 
Sibley  —  were  known  to  have  pulled  out  two  days  be- 
fore from  Carson  City." 

"When  was  this?" 

"  Ten  days  ago." 

Fairbain's  lips  smiled,  the  ruddy  coloring  sweeping 
back  into  his  cheeks. 

"  Damn  me,  Keith,  you  came  near  giving  me  a  shock," 
he  said,  jerkily.  "  Should  n't  be  so  careless  —  not  sure 
my  heart 's  just  right  —  tendency  to  apoplexy,  too  — 
got  to  be  guarded  against.  Now,  let  me  tell  you  some- 
thing—  maybe  you  buried  some  poor  devil  out  at  Clm- 
maron  Crossing  —  but  it  wasn't  Willis  Walte.  How 
do  I  know?  Because  I  saw  him,  and  talked  with  him 
yesterday  —  damn  me,  if  I  didn't,  right  here  In  this 
town." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN   THE   NEXT   ROOM 

1^^  EITH,  his  eyes  filled  with  undisguised  doubt, 
-■-^  studied  the  face  of  the  man  opposite,  almost  con- 
vinced that  he  was,  In  some  way,  connected  with  the 
puzzling  mystery.  But  the  honesty  of  the  rugged  face 
only  added  to  his  perplexity. 

"  Are  you  certain  you  are  not  mistaken?  " 
"  Of  course  I  am,  Keith.  I  've  known  Waite  for 
fifteen  years  a  bit  intimately  —  have  met  him  frequently 
since  the  war  —  and  I  certainly  talked  with  him.  He 
told  me  enough  to  partially  confirm  your  story.  He 
said  he  had  started  for  Santa  Fe  light,  because  he 
could  n't  get  enough  men  to  run  a  caravan  —  afraid 
of  Indians,  you  know.  So,  he  determined  to  take 
money  —  buy  Mexican  goods  —  and  risk  it  himself. 
Old  fighting  cock  would  n't  turn  back  for  all  the  In- 
dians on  the  plains  once  he  got  an  idea  in  his  head  — 
he  was  that  kind  —  Lord,  you  ought  to  seen  the  fight 
he  put  up  at  Spottsylvania !  He  got  to  Carson  City 
with  two  wagons,  a  driver  and  a  cook  —  had  eight 
thousand  dollars  with  him,  too,  the  damn  fool.     Cook 

148 


IN  THE  NEXT  ROOM  149 

got  into  row,  gambling,  cut  a  man,  and  was  jugged. 
Old  Walte  would  n't  leave  even  a  nigger  in  that  sort 
of  fix  —  natural  fighter  —  likes  any  kind  of  row.  So, 
he  hung  on  there  at  Carson,  but  had  sense  enough  — 
Lord  knows  where  he  got  it  —  to  put  all  but  a  few 
hundred  dollars  in  Ben  Levy's  safe.  Then,  he  went 
out  one  night  to  play  poker  with  his  driver  and  a 
friend  —  had  a  drink  or  two  —  doped,  probably,  and 
never  woke  up  for  forty-eight  hours  —  lost  clothes, 
money,  papers,  and  whole  outfit  —  was  just  naturally 
cleaned  out  —  could  n't  get  a  trace  worth  following 
after.  You  ought  to  have  heard  him  cuss  when  he  told 
jYiQ  —  it  seemed  to  be  the  papers  that  bothered  him 
most  —  them,  and  the  mules." 

"  You  say  there  was  no  trace?  " 

"  Nothing  to  travel  on  after  forty-eight  hours  — 
a  posse  started  out  next  morning,  soon  as  they  found 
him  —  when  they  got  back  they  reported  having  run 
the  fellows  as  far  as  CImmaron  Crossing  —  there  they 
got  across  into  the  sand  hills,  and  escaped." 

"Who  led  the  posse?" 

"  A  man  called  Black,  I  think,"  he  said. 

"Black  Bart?" 

"  Yes,  that 's  the  name;  so,  I  reckon  you  did  n't  bury 
Willis  Walte  this  time,  Captain.  You  would  n't 
have  thought  he  was  a   dead  one   if  you  had  heard 


I50  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

him  swear  while  he  was  telling  the  story  —  it  did  him 
proud;  never  heard  him  do  better  since  the  second  day 
at  Gettysburg  —  had  his  ear  shot  off  then,  and  I  had 
to  fix  him  up  —  Lord,  but  he  called  me  a  few  things." 

Keith  sat  silent,  fully  convinced  now  that  the  doctor 
was  telling  the  truth,  yet  more  puzzled  than  ever  over 
the  peculiar  situation  in  which  he  found  himself  in- 
volved. 

"What  brought  the  General  up  here?"  he  ques- 
tioned, finally. 

"  I  have  n't  much  idea,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  don't 
think  I  asked  him  directly.  I  was  n't  much  interested. 
There  was  a  hint  dropped,  however,  now  you  speak 
about  it.  He  's  keen  after  those  papers,  and  does  n't 
feel  satisfied  regarding  the  report  of  the  posse.  It 's 
my  opinion  he  's  trailing  after  Black  Bart." 

The  dining-room  was  thinning  out,  and  they  were 
about  the  only  ones  left  at  the  tables.  Keith  stretched 
himself,  looking  around. 

"  Well,  Doctor,  I  am  very  glad  to  have  met  you 
again,  and  to  learn  Waite  is  actually  alive.  This  is 
a  rather  queer  affair,  but  will  have  to  work  itself  out. 
Anyway,  I  am  too  dead  tired  to-night  to  hunt  after  clues 
in  midst  of  this  babel.  I  've  been  in  the  saddle  most  of 
the  time  for  a  week,  and  have  got  to  find  a  bed." 

"  I  reckon  you  won't  discover  such  a  thing  here," 


IN  THE  NEXT  ROOM  151 

dryly.  "  Got  seven  in  a  room  upstairs,  and  others 
corded  along  the  hall.  Better  share  my  cell  —  only 
thing  to  do." 

"  That  would  be  asking  too  much  —  I  can  turn  in 
at  the  corral  with  Neb;  I  Ve  slept  in  worse  places." 

"  Could  n't  think  of  it,  Keith,"  and  the  doctor  got 
up.     "  Besides,  you  sleep  at  night,  don't  you?  " 

"  Usually,  yes,"  the  other  admitted. 

"  Then  you  won't  bother  me  any  —  no  doctor  sleeps 
at  night  in  Sheridan;  that's  our  harvest  time.  Come 
on,  and  I  '11  show  you  the  way.  When  morning  comes 
I  '11  rout  you  out  and  take  my  turn." 

Keith  had  enjoyed  considerable  experience  in  frontier 
hotels,  but  nothing  before  had  ever  quite  equalled  this, 
the  pride  of  Sheridan.  The  product  of  a  mush- 
room town,  which  merely  existed  by  grace  of  the  tem- 
porary railway  terminus,  it  had  been  hastily  and  flimslly 
constructed,  so  it  could  be  transported  elsewhere  at  a 
moment's  notice.  Every  creak  of  a  bed  echoed  from 
wall  to  wall.  The  thin  partitions  often  failed  to  reach 
the  ceiling  by  a  foot  or  two,  and  the  slightest  noise 
aroused  the  entire  floor.  And  there  was  noise  of  every 
conceivable  kind,  in  plenty,  from  the  blare  of  a  band 
at  the  Pioneer  Dance  Hall  opposite,  to  the  energetic 
cursing  of  the  cook  in  the  rear.  A  discordant  din  of 
voices   surged   up    from   the   street   below  —  laughter, 


152  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

shouts,  the  shrieks  of  women,  a  rattle  of  dice,  an  occa- 
sional pistol  shot,  and  the  continuous  yelling  of  indus- 
trious "  barkers."  There  was  no  safety  anywhere. 
An  exploding  revolver  in  No.  47  was  quite  likely  to 
disturb  the  peaceful  slumbers  of  the  innocent  occupant 
of  No.  15,  and  every  sound  of  quarrel  in  the  thronged 
bar-room  below  caused  the  lodger  to  curl  up  in  mo- 
mentary expectation  of  a  stray  bullet  coursing  toward 
him  through  the  floor.  With  this  to  trouble  him,  he 
could  lie  there  and  hear  everything  that  occurred  within 
and  without.  Every  creak,  stamp,  and  snore  was  faith- 
fully reported;  every  curse,  blow,  snarl  reechoed  to  his 
ears.     Inside  was  hell;  outside  was  Sheridan. 

Wearied,  and  half  dead,  as  Keith  was,  sleep  was 
simply  impossible.  He  heard  heavy  feet  tramping  up 
and  down  the  hall;  once  a  drunken  man  endeavored 
vainly  to  open  his  door;  not  far  away  there  was  a  scufile, 
and  the  sound  of  a  body  falling  down  stairs.  In  some 
distant  apartment  a  fellow  was  struggling  to  draw  off 
his  tight  boots,  skipping  about  on  one  foot  amid  much 
profanity.  That  the  boot  conquered  was  evident  when 
the  man  crawled  into  the  creaking  bed,  announcing  de- 
fiantly, "  If  the  landlord  wants  them  boots  off,  let 
him  come  an'  pull  'em  off."  Across  the  hall  was  a  rattle 
of  chips,  and  the  voices  of  several  men,  occasionally 
raised  in  anger.     Now  and  then  they  would  stamp  on 


IN  THE  NEXT  ROOM  153 

the  floor  as  an  order  for  liquid  refreshments  from  be- 
low. From  somewhere  beyond,  the  long-drawn  melan- 
choly howl  of  a  distressed  dog  greeted  the  rising  moon. 

Out  from  all  this  pandemonium  Keith  began  to  un- 
consciously detect  the  sound  of  voices  talking  in  the  room 
to  his  left.  In  the  lull  of  obstructing  sound  a  few 
words  reached  him  through  the  slight  open  space  be- 
tween wall  and  ceiling. 

"  Hell,  Bill,  what 's  the  use  goin'  out  again  when 
we  have  n't  the  price?  " 

"  Oh,  we  might  find  Bart  somewhere,  and  he  'd  stake 
us.  I  guess  I  know  enough  to  make  him  loosen  up. 
Come  on;  I'm  goin'." 

"Not  me;  this  town  is  too  near  Fort  Hays;  I'm 
liable  to  run  into  some  of  the  fellows." 

A  chair  scraped  across  the  floor  as  Bill  arose  to  his 
feet;  evidently  from  the  noise  he  had  been  drinking, 
but  Keith  heard  him  lift  the  latch  of  the  door. 

"  All  right,  Willoughby,"  he  said,  thickly,  "  I  '11  try 
my  luck,  an'  if  I  see  Bart  I  '11  tell  him  yer  here.  So 
long." 

He  shuffled  along  the  hall  and  went,  half  sliding, 
down  stairs,  and  Keith  distinguished  the  click  of  glass 
and  bottle  in  the  next  room.  He  was  sitting  up  in  bed 
now,  wide  awake,  obsessed  with  a  desire  to  investigate. 
The  reference  overheard  must  have  been  to  Hawley, 


154  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

and  If  so,  this  Willoughby,  who  was  afraid  of  meeting 
soldiers  from  the  fort,  would  be  the  deserter  Miss  Hope 
was  seeking.  There  could  be  no  harm  in  making  sure, 
and  he  slipped  into  his  clothes,  and  as  silently  as  pos- 
sible, unlatched  his  door.  There  was  a  noisy  crowd 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall,  and  the  sound  of  some 
one  laboriously  mounting  the  stairs.  Not  desiring  to 
be  seen,  Keith  slipped  swiftly  toward  the  door  of  the 
other  room,  and  tried  the  latch.  It  was  unfastened, 
and  he  stepped  quietly  within,  closing  It  behind  him. 

A  small  lamp  was  on  the  washstand,  a  half-emptied 
bottle  and  two  glasses  beside  it,  while  a  pack  of  cards 
lay  scattered  on  the  floor.  Fully  dressed,  except  for  a 
coat,  the  sole  occupant  lay  on  the  bed,  but  started  up 
at  Keith's  unceremonious  entrance,  reaching  for  his 
revolver,  which  had  slipped  to  the  wrong  side  of  his 
belt. 

"What  the  hell!"  he  exclaimed,  startled  and  con- 
fused. 

The  intruder  took  one  glance  at  him  through  the 
dingy  light  —  a  boy  of  eighteen,  dark  hair,  dark  eyes, 
his  face,  already  exhibiting  signs  of  dissipation,  yet 
manly  enough  in  chin  and  mouth  —  and  smiled. 

"  I  could  draw  while  you  were  thinking  about  it," 
he  said,  easily,  "  but  I  am  not  here  on  the  fight.  Are 
you  Fred  Willoughby  ?  " 


1 


IN  THE  NEXT  ROOM  155 

The  lad  stared  at  him,  his  uncertain  hand  now  closed 
on  the  butt  of  his  revolver,  yet  held  inactive  by  the 
other's  quiet  assurance. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know  for?  " 

"Curiosity  largely;  thought  I'd  like  to  ask  you  a 
question  or  two." 

"  You  —  you  're  not  from  the  fort?  " 

"  Nothing  to  do  with  the  army;  this  is  a  private  af- 
fair." 
The  boy  was  sullen  from  drink,  his  eyes  heavy. 

"Then  who  the  devil  are  you?  I  never  saw  you 
before." 

"  That 's  very  true,  and  my  name  would  n't  help  any. 
Nevertheless,  you  're  perfectly  welcome  to  it.  I  am 
Jack  Keith."  No  expression  of  recognition  came  into 
the  face  of  the  other,  and  Keith  added  curtly,  "  Shall 
we  talk?" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  Willoughby 
swung  his  feet  over  the  edge  of  the  bed  onto  the  floor. 

"  Fire  away,"  he  said  shortly,  "  until  I  see  what  the 
game  is  about." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

INTERVIEWING   WILLOUGHBY 

COOLLY,  yet  without  in  the  least  comprehending 
how  best  to  proceed,  Keith  drew  toward  him  the 
only  chair  in  the  room,  and  sat  down.  Miss  Hope  — 
more  widely  known  as  Christie  Maclaire  —  had 
claimed  this  drunken  lad  as  her  brother,  but,  accord- 
ing to  Hawley,  he  had  vehemently  denied  any  such 
relationship.  Yet  there  must  be  some  previous  associa- 
tion between  the  two,  and  what  this  was  the  plainsman 
proposed  to  discover.  The  problem  was  how  best  to 
cause  the  fellow  to  talk  frankly  —  could  he  be  reached 
more  easily  by  reference  to  the  girl  or  the  gambler? 
Keith  studying  the  sullen,  obstinate  face  confronting 
him,  with  instinctive  antagonism  over  his  intrusion, 
swiftly  determined  on  the  girl. 

"  It  was  not  very  nice  of  me  to  come  in  on  you 
this  way,"  he  began,  apologetically,  "  but  you  see  I  hap- 
pen to  know  your  sister." 

"  My  sister?     Oh,  I  guess  not!  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  do,"  throwing  a  confidence  into  his  tone 

156 


INTERVIEWING  WILLOUGHBY       157 

he  was  far  from  feeling,  "  Miss  Hope  and  I  are 
friends." 

The  boy  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  flushed. 

"Oh,  you  mean  Hope?  Do  you  know  her?  Say, 
I  thought  you  were  giving  me  that  old  gag  about 
Christie  Maclaire." 

"  Certainly  not;  who  is  she?" 

"That's  more  than  I  know;  fellow  came  to  me  at 
Carson,  and  said  he  'd  met  my  sister  on  a  stage  west 
of  Topeka.  I  knew  he  was  lyin',  because  she  's  home 
over  in  Missouri.  Finally,  I  got  it  out  of  him  that  she 
claimed  to  be  my  sister,  but  her  name  was  Maclaire. 
Why,  I  don't  even  know  her,  and  what  do  you  suppose 
she  ever  picked  me  out  for  her  brother  for?" 

He  was  plainly  puzzled,  and  perfectly  convinced  it 
was  all  a  mistake.  That  his  sister  might  have  left 
home  since  he  did,  and  drifted  West  under  an  assumed 
name,  apparently  never  occurred  to  him  as  possible. 
To  Keith  this  was  the  explanation,  and  nothing  could 
be  more  natural,  considering  her  work,  yet  he  did  not 
feel  like  shattering  the  lad's  loyalty.  Faith  in  the  sister 
might  yet  save  him. 

"  Perhaps  the  fellow  who  told  you,"  he  hazarded 
blindly,  speaking  the  first  thought  which  came  to  his 
mind,  "  had  some  reason  to  desire  to  make  you  think 
this  Maclaire  girl  was  your  sister." 


158  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

The  suggestion  caused  him  to  laugh  at  first;  then  his 
face  suddenly  sobered,  as  though  a  new  thought  had 
occurred  to  him. 

"  Damn  me,  no,  it  could  n't  be  that,"  he  exclaimed, 
one  hand  pressing  his  head.  "  He  could  n't  be  workin' 
no  trick  of  that  kind  on  me." 

*'  iWhom  do  you  mean?  " 

"  A  fellow  named  Hawley,"  evasively.  "  The  man 
who  claimed  to  have  met  my  sister." 

'"Black  Bart'  Hawley?" 

The  boy  lifted  his  head  again,  his  eyes  filled  with  sus- 
picion. 

"  Yes,  If  you  must  know ;  he  's  a  gambler  all  right, 
but  he  's  stuck  to  me  when  I  was  down  and  out.  You 
know  him?  " 

"  Just  a  little,"  carelessly;  "  but  what  sort  of  a  trick 
could  he  be  working  trying  to  make  you  acknowledge 
Christie  Maclaire  as  your  sister?  " 

Willoughby  did  not  answer,  shifting  uneasily  about 
on  the  bed.  Keith  waited,  and  at  last  the  boy  blurted 
out: 

"  Oh,  It  was  n't  nothing  much.  I  told  him  some- 
thing when  I  was  drunk  once,  that  I  thought  maybe 
might  have  stuck  to  him.  Odd  he  should  make  that 
mistake,  too,  for  I  showed  him  Hope's  picture. 
Bart 's   a   schemer,   and   I   did  n't  know  but  what  he 


INTERVIEWING  WILLOUGHBY       159 

might  have  figured  out  a  trick,  though  I  don't  see  how 
he  could.  It  was  n't  no  more  than  a  pipe  dream,  I 
reckon.  Where  did  you  meet  Hope?  Back  in  Mis- 
souri .'' 

One  thing  was  clearly  evident  —  the  boy's  faith  in 
his  sister.  If  he  was  to  be  rightly  influenced,  and  led 
back  to  her,  he  must  have  no  suspicion  aroused  that  her 
life  was  any  different  from  what  it  had  been  before 
he  left  home.  Besides  if  Keith  hoped  to  gain  any 
inkling  of  what  Hawley's  purpose  could  be,  he  must 
win  the  confidence  of  Willoughby.  This  could  not  be 
done  by  telling  him  of  Hope's  present  life.  These  con- 
siderations flashed  through  his  mind,  and  as  swiftly  de- 
termined his  answer. 

"  Oh,  I  've  known  her  some  time.  Not  long  ago 
I  did  her  a  service  for  which  she  is  grateful.  Did 
you  know  she  was  out  In  this  country  searching  for 
you?" 

"Out  here?     In  Kansas?" 

"  Sure;  that  is  n't  much  of  a  trip  for  a  spirited  girl. 
She  got  it  in  her  head  from  your  letters  that  you  were 
in  trouble,  and  set  out  to  find  you  and  bring  you  home. 
She  did  n't  tell  me  this,  but  that  is  the  way  I  heard  it. 
It  was  for  her  sake  I  came  in  here.  Why  not  go  to 
her,  Willoughby,  and  then  both  of  you  return  to  Mis- 
souri : 


i6o  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

The  sullenness  had  gone  out  of  the  boy's  face:  he 
looked  tired,  discouraged. 

"  Where  is  Hope?  "  he  asked. 

"  Fort  Earned,  I  suppose.  She  went  to  Carson  City 
first." 

"  Well,  that  settles  it,"  shaking  his  head.  "  You 
don't  suppose  I  could  go  browsin'  'round  Earned,  and 
not  get  snapped  up,  do  you?  They  don't  chase  de- 
serters very  far  out  here,  but  that 's  the  post  I  skipped 
from,  and  they  'd  jug  me  all  right.  Besides,  I  'm 
damned  if  I  '11  go  back  until  I  get  a  stake.  I  want  to 
see  a  fellow  first." 

"What  fellow?" 

"  Well,  it 's  Hawley,  if  you  want  to  know  so  bad. 
He  said  if  I  would  come  here  and  wait  for  him  he  'd 
put  me  on  to  a  good  thing." 

The  boy  fidgetted  along  the  edge  of  the  bed,  evi- 
dently half  ashamed  of  himself,  yet  obstinate  and  un- 
yielding. Keith  sat  watching  his  face,  unable  to  evolve 
any  means  of  changing  his  decision.  Hawley's  in- 
fluence just  at  present  was  greater  than  Hope's,  because 
the  lad  naturally  felt  ashamed  to  go  slinking  home  pen- 
niless and  defeated.  His  pride  held  him  to  Hawley, 
and  his  faith  that  the  nian  would  redeem  his  promise. 
Keith  understood  all  this  readily  enough,  and  compre- 
hended also  that  if  "  Black  Bart "  h?d  a/iy  use  for  the 


INTERVIEWING  WILLOUGHBY        i6i 

boy  it  would  be  for  some  criminal  purpose.  What  was 
it?  Was  there  a  deeply  laid  plot  back  of  all  these  prep- 
arations involving  both  Willoughby  and  his  sister? 
What  was  it  Hawley  was  scheming  about  so  carefully, 
holding  this  boy  deserter  in  one  hand,  while  he  reached 
out  the  other  after  Christie  Maclaire?  Surely,  the 
man  was  not  working  blindly;  he  must  have  a  purpose 
In  view.  Willoughby  had  acknowledged  he  had  told 
the  fellow  something  once  when  he  was  drunk  —  about 
his  family  history,  no  doubt,  for  he  had  shown  him 
Hope's  picture.  What  that  family  secret  was  Keith 
had  no  means  of  guessing,  but  Hawley,  the  moment  he 
saw  the  face  on  the  cardboard,  had  evidently  recognized 
Christie  Maclaire  —  had  thought  of  some  way  in  which 
what  he  now  knew  could  be  turned  to  advantage.  The 
few  scattered  facts  which  Keith  had  collected  all  seemed 
to  point  to  such  a  conclusion  —  Hawley  had  sent  the 
boy  to  Sheridan,  where  he  would  be  out  of  sight,  with 
orders  to  wait  for  him  there,  and  the  promise  of  a 
"  stake  "  to  keep  him  quiet.  Then  he  had  gone  to  In- 
dependence and  Topeka  seeking  after  Christie  Maclaire. 
Evidently  he  meant  to  keep  the  two  apart  until  he 
had  gained  from  each  whatever  it  was  he  sought.  But 
what  could  that  be?  What  family  secret  could  Wil- 
loughby have  blurted  out  in  his  cups,  which  had  so 

stimulated  the  gambler's  wits? 
II 


i62  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

Two  things  combined  to  cause  Keith  to  determine  he 
would  uncover  this  rascality, —  his  desire  to  repay 
Hawley,  and  his  interest  in  the  girl  rescued  on  the 
Salt  Fork.  This  gossamer  web  of  intrigue  Into  which 
he  had  stumbled  unwittingly  was  nothing  to  him  per- 
sonally; had  it  not  involved  both  Hawley  and  Miss 
Hope,  he  would  have  left  It  unsolved  without  another 
thought.  But  under  the  circumstances  it  became  his 
own  battle.  There  was  a  crime  here  —  hidden  as  yet, 
and  probably  not  consummated  —  Involving  wrong, 
perhaps  disgrace,  to  the  young  girl.  He  had  rescued 
her  once  from  out  the  clutches  of  this  man,  and  he 
had  no  Intention  of  deserting  her  now.  Whatever 
her  life  might  be,  she  was  certainly  an  innocent  victim 
in  this  case,  deserving  his  protection.  The  memory 
came  to  him  of  her  face  upturned  toward  him  In  that 
little  room  of  the  Occidental,  her  eyes  tear-dimmed, 
her  lips  asking  him  to  come  back  to  her  again.  He 
could  not  believe  her  a  bad  woman,  and  his  lips  com- 
pressed, his  eyes  darkened,  with  fixed  determination. 
He  would  dig  Into  this  until  he  uncovered  the  truth; 
he  would  find  out  what  dirty  trick  "  Black  Bart  "  was 
up  to. 

As  he  thought  this  out,  not  swiftly  as  recorded,  but 
slowly,  deliberately,  piecing  the  bits  together  within  his 
mind,  blindly  feeling  his  way  to  a  final  conclusion,  the 


INTERVIEWING  WILLOUGHBY       163 

boy  had  sunk  back  upon  the  bed,  overcome  with  hquor, 
and  fallen  asleep.  Keith  stepped  over,  and  looked 
down  upon  him  in  the  dim  light.  He  could  recognize 
something  of  her  features  in  the  upturned  face,  and  his 
eyes  softened.  There  was  no  use  seeking  again  to 
arouse  him;  even  had  he  been  sober,  he  would  not  have 
talked  freely,  Keith  lifted  the  dangling  feet  into  a 
more  comfortable  position,  turned  the  lamp  lower,  went 
out,  and  latched  the  door.  Two  men  were  tramping 
heavily  up  the  stairs,  and  they  turned  into  the  hall  at  the 
very  moment  he  disappeared  within  his  own  room.  He 
still  retained  his  grasp  upon  the  latch,  when  a  voice 
outside  asked: 

"  What  number  did  you  say.  Bill  —  29  ?  " 
Keith  straightened  up   as  though  suddenly  pricked 
by  a  knife;  he  could  never  forget  that  voice  —  it  was 
Hawley's. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A   GLIMPSE   AT   CONSPIRACY 

T  EANING  against  the  inside  of  his  own  door, 
-■— '  startled  by  the  rapid  sequence  of  events,  Keith 
was  able,  from  different  sounds  reaching  him,  to 
mentally  picture  most  of  what  occurred  in  the  next 
room.  He  heard  Bill  sink  down  into  the  convenient 
chair,  and  drink  from  the  bottle,  while  the  gambler 
apparently  advanced  toward  the  bed,  where  he  stood 
looking  down  on  its  unconscious  occupant. 

"  The  fool  is  dead  drunk,"  he  declared  disgustedly. 
"  We  can't  do  anything  with  him  to-night." 

"  I  say  —  throw  bucket  water  over  him,"  hiccoughed 
the  other  genially,  "  allers  sobers  me  off." 

Hawley  made  no  response,  evidently  finding  a  seat  on 
one  end  of  the  washstand. 

"  Hardly  worth  while,  Scott,"  he  returned  finally. 
"  Perhaps  I  better  have  some  understanding  with 
Christie,  anyhow,  before  I  pump  the  boy  any  further. 
If  we  can  once  get  her  working  with  us,  Willoughby 
won't  have  much  hand  in  the  play  —  we  shan't  need 
him.     Thought  I  told  you  to  keep  sober?  " 

164 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  CONSPIRACY         165 

"Am  sober,"  solemnly,  "ain't  had  but  six  drinks; 
just  nat'rly  tired  out." 

"  Oh,  indeed;  well,  such  a  room  as  this  would  drive 
any  man  to  drink.  Did  you  get  what  I  sent  you  here 
after?" 

"I  sure  did,  Bart,"  and  Keith  heard  the  fellow  get  to 
his  feet  unsteadily,  "  Here  's  the  picture,  an'  some  let- 
ters.    I  did  n't  take  only  what  he  had  in  the  grip." 

Hawley  shuffled  the  letters  over  In  his  hands,  ap- 
parently hastily  reading  them  with  some  difficulty  in 
the  dim  light. 

"  Nothing  there  to  give  us  any  help,"  he  acknowl- 
edged reluctantly,  "  mostly  advice  as  far  as  I  can  see. 
Damn  the  light;  a  glow  worm  would  be  better." 
There  was  a  pause;  then  he  slapped  his  leg.  "  How- 
ever, it 's  clear  they  live  In  Springfield,  Missouri,  and 
this  photograph  is  a  peach.  Just  look  here,  Bill! 
What  did  I  tell  you?  Ain't  Christie  a  dead  ringer  for 
this  girl?" 

"  You  bet  she  is,  Bart,"  admitted  the  other  in 
maudlin  admiration,  "  only,  I  reckon,  maybe  some 
older." 

"  Well,  she  ought  to  be  accordin'  to  Willoughby's 
story,  an'  them  papers  bear  him  out  all  right,  so  I 
reckon  he  's  told  it  straight  —  this  Phyllis  would  be 
twenty-six  now,  and  that 's  just  about  what  Christie  is. 


i66  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

It  would  n't  have  fit  better  if  we  had  made  it  on  pur- 
pose. If  the  girl  will  only  play  up  to  the  part  we 
won't  need  any  other  evidence  —  her  face  would  be 
enough." 

Keith  could  hear  the  beating  of  his  own  heart  in  the 
silence  that  followed.  Here  was  a  new  thought,  a  new 
understanding,  a  complete  new  turn  to  affairs.  Christie 
Maclaire,  then,  was  not  Willoughby's  sister  Hope. 
The  girl  he  rescued  on  the  desert  —  the  girl  with  the 
pleading  brown  eyes,  and  the  soft  blur  of  the  South 
on  her  lips  —  was  not  the  music  hall  singer.  He  could 
hardly  grasp  the  truth  at  first,  it  antagonized  so  sharply 
with  all  he  had  previously  believed.  Yet,  if  this  were 
true  his  own  duty  became  clearer  than  ever;  aye,  and 
would  be  more  willingly  performed.  But  what  did 
Hawley  know?  Did  he  already  realize  that  the  girl 
he  had  first  met  on  the  stage  coach,  and  later  Inveigled 
into  the  desert,  was  Hope,  and  not  the  music  hall  artist? 
He,  of  course,  fully  believed  her  to  be  Christie  Maclaire 
at  that  time,  but  something  might  have  occurred  since 
to  change  that  belief.  Anyhow,  the  man  was  not  now 
seeking  Hope,  but  the  other.  Apparently  the  latter 
was  either  already  here  in  Sheridan  or  expected  soon. 
And  exactly  what  was  It  the  gambler  desired  this 
Maclaire  woman  to  do?  This  was  the  Important  mat- 
ter, and  for  Its  solution  Keith  possessed  merely  a  few 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  CONSPIRACY         167 

hints,  a  few  vague  suggestions.  She  was  expected  to 
represent  herself  as  Phyllis  —  Phyllis  who?  Some 
Phyllis  surely  whose  physical  resemblance  to  Hope 
must  be  sufficiently  marked  to  be  at  once  noticeable. 
Willoughby  had  evidently  revealed  to  Hawley  some 
hidden  family  secret,  having  money  involved,  no  doubt, 
and  in  which  the  discovery  of  this  mysterious  Phyllis 
figured.  She  might,  perhaps,  be  a  sister,  or  half-sister, 
who  had  disappeared,  and  remained  ignorant  as  to  any 
inheritance.  Hope's  picture  shown  by  the  boy,  and 
reminding  Hawley  at  once  of  Christie  Maclaire,  had 
been  the  basis  of  the  whole  plot.  Exactly  what  the 
details  of  that  plot  might  be  Keith  could  not  figure  out, 
but  one  thing  was  reasonably  certain  —  It  was  pro- 
posed to  defraud  Hope.  And  who  in  the  very  truth 
was  Hope?  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  as  a  remark- 
ably strange  fact  that  he  possessed  not  the  slightest 
Inkling  as  to  the  girl's  name.  Her  brother  had  as- 
sumed to  be  called  Willoughby  when  he  enlisted  in  the 
army,  and  his  companions  continued  to  call  him  this. 
If  he  could  Interview  the  girl  now  for  only  five  minutes 
he  should  be  able  probably  to  straighten  out  the  whole 
Intricate  tangle.  But  where  was  she?  Would  she 
have  remained  until  this  time  at  Fort  Earned  with  Kate 
Murphy? 

There  was  a  noise  of  movement  in  the  next  room. 


i68  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

Apparently  as  Hawley  arose  carelessly  from  his  edge 
of  the  washstand  he  had  dislodged  the  glass,  which  fell 
shivering  on  the  floor.  Scott  swore  audibly  at  the 
loss. 

"  Shut  up,  Bill,"  snapped  the  gambler,  irritated, 
"  you  Ve  got  the  bottle  left.  I  'm  going;  there  's  noth- 
ing for  any  of  us  to  do  now,  until  after  I  see  Christie. 
You  remain  here!  Do  you  understand?  —  remain 
here.     Damn  me,  if  that  drunken  fool  is  n't  waking  up." 

There  was  a  rattling  of  the  rickety  bed,  and  then 
the  sound  of  Willoughby's  voice,  thick  from  liquor. 

"  Almighty  glad  see  you,  Bart  —  am,  indeed. 
Want  money  —  Bill  an'  I  both  want  money  —  can't 
drink  without  money  —  can't  eat  without  money  — 
shay,  when  you  goin'  stake  us?  " 

"  I  '11  see  you  again  in  the  morning,  Fred,"  returned 
the  other  briefly.     "  Go  on  back  to  sleep." 

"  Will  when  I  git  good  an'  ready  —  go  sleep,  stay 
wake,  just  as  I  please  —  don't  care  damn  what  yer  do 

—  got  new  frien'  now." 

"A  new  friend?  Who?"  Hawley  spoke  with 
aroused  interest. 

"Oh,  he's  all  right  —  he's  mighty  fine  fellow  — 
come  in  wisout  in  —  invitation  —  ol'  friend  my  sister 

—  called  —  called  her  Hope  —  you  fool,  Bart  Hawley, 
think  my  sister  Christie  —  Christie  —  damfino  the  name 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  CONSPIRACY         169 

—  my  sister,  Hope  —  don't  want  yer  money  —  my  — 
my  new  friend,  he  '11  stake  me  —  he  knows  my  sister 

—  Hope.'' 

The  gambler  grasped  the  speaker,  shaking  him  into 
some  slight  semblance  of  sobriety. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Willoughby,  I  want  the  truth, 
and  mean  to  have  it,"  he  insisted.  "  Has  some  one 
been  in  here  while  Scott  was  gone?" 

"Sure  —  didn't  I  just  tell  yer?  —  friend  o' 
Hope's." 

"  Who  was  he?     Speak  up!     I  want  the  name!  " 

There  was  a  faint  gurgling  sound,  as  though  the 
gambler's  vise-like  fingers  were  at  the  boy's  throat;  a 
slight  struggle,  and  then  the  choked  voice  gasped  out: 

"Let  up  I  damn  yerl  He  called  himself  Jack 
Keith." 

The  dead  silence  which  ensued  was  broken  only  by 
heavy  breathing.  Then  Scott  swore,  bringing  his  fist 
down  with  a  crash  on  the  washstand. 

"That  rather  stumps  yer,  don't  It,  Bart?  Well, 
it  don't  me.  I  tell  yer  It 's  just  as  I  said  from  the 
first.  It  was  Keith  an'  that  nigger  what  jumped  ye 
in  the  cabin.  They  was  hidin'  there  when  we  rode  in. 
He  just  nat'rly  pumped  the  gal,  an'  now  he 's  up 
here  trailin'  you.     Blame  it  all,  it  makes  me  laugh." 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  see  to  laugh  at.     This  Keith 


I70  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

is  n't  an  easy  man  to  play  with,  let  me  tell  you.  He 
may  have  got  on  to  our  game." 

"  Oh,  hell,  Bart,  don't  lose  your  nerve.  He  can't 
do  anything,  because  we  've  got  the  under  holt.  He  's 
a  fugitive;  all  we  got  to  do  is  locate  him,  an'  have 
him  flung  back  inter  jail  —  there's  murder  an'  hoss- 
stealing  agin  him." 

Hawley  seemed  to  be  thinking  swiftly,  while  his  com- 
panion took  another  drink. 

"Well,  pard,  ain't  that  so?" 

"  No,  that  trick  won't  work,  Scott.  We  could  do  It 
easily  enough  if  we  were  down  in  Carson,  where  the  boys 
would  help  us  out.  The  trouble  up  here  is  that  '  Wild 
Bill '  Hickock  is  Marshal  of  Sheridan,  and  he  and  I 
never  did  hitch.  Besides,  Keith  was  one  of  his  deputies 
down  at  Dodge  two  years  ago  —  you  remember  when 
Dutch  Charlie's  place  was  cleaned  out?  Well,  Hickock 
and  Keith  did  that  job  all  alone,  and  '  Wild  Bill '  Is  n't 
going  back  on  that  kind  of  a  pal,  is  he?  I  tell  you 
we  've  got  to  fight  this  affair  alone,  and  on  the  quiet. 
Maybe  the  fellow  don't  know  much  yet,  but  he  's  sure 
on  the  trail,  or  else  he  would  n't  have  been  In  here 
talking  to  Wllloughby.  We  've  got  to  get  him,  Scott, 
somehow.  Lord,  man,  there  's  a  clean  million  dollars 
waiting  for  us  in  this  deal,  and  I  'm  ready  to  fight  for 
It.     But  I  'm  damned  sleepy,  and  I  'm  going  to  bed. 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  CONSPIRACY         171 

You  locate  Keith  to-morrow,  and  then,  when  you  're 
sober,  we  '11  figure  out  how  we  can  get  to  him  best; 
I  Ve  got  to  set  Christie  right.     Good-night,  Bill." 

He  went  out  into  the  hall  and  down  the  creaking 
stairs,  the  man  he  wanted  so  badly  listening  to  his  de- 
scending footsteps,  half  tempted  to  follow.  Scott  did 
not  move,  perhaps  had  already  fallen  drunkenly  asleep 
on  his  chair,  and  finally  Keith  crossed  his  own  room, 
and  lay  down.  The  din  outside  continued  unabated, 
but  the  man's  Intense  weariness  overcame  it  all,  and  he 
fell  asleep,  his  last  conscious  thought  a  memory  of 
Hope. 


CHAPTER  XX 

HOPE   GOES    TO    SHERIDAN 

THE  discovery  of  the  locket  which  had  fallen  from 
about  Keith's  neck  made  it  impossible  for  Hope 
to  remain  quietly  for  very  long  in  the  hotel  at  Fort 
Larned.  The  more  carefully  she  thought  over  the 
story  of  that  murder  at  the  Cimmaron  Crossing,  and 
Keith's  tale  of  how  he  had  discovered  and  buried  the 
mutilated  bodies,  the  more  assured  she  became  that 
that  was  where  this  locket  came  from,  and  that  the 
slain  freighter  must  have  been  her  own  father.  She 
never  once  questioned  the  truth  of  Keith's  report;  there 
was  that  about  the  man  which  would  not  permit  of  her 
doubting  him.  He  had  simply  failed  to  mention  what 
he  removed  from  the  bodies,  supposing  this  would  be  of 
no  special  interest. 

Mrs.  Murphy,  hoping  thus  to  quiet  the  apprehen- 
sions of  her  charge,  set  herself  diligently  at  work  to 
discover  the  facts.  As  her  house  was  filled  with 
transients,  including  occasional  visitors  from  Carson 
City,  and  was  also  lounging  headquarters  for  many 
of  the  officers  from  the  near-by  fort,  she  experienced  no 

172 


HOPE  GOES  TO  SHERIDAN  173 

difficulty  in  picking  up  all  the  floating  rumors.  Out  of 
these,  with  Irish  shrewdness,  she  soon  managed  to  patch 
together  a  consistent  fabric  of  fact. 

"  Shure,  honey,  it 's  not  so  bad  the  way  they  tell  it 
now,"  she  explained,  consolingly.  "  Nobody  belaves 
now  it  was  yer  father  that  got  kilt.  It  was  two  fellers 
what  stole  his  outfit,  clothes  an'  all,  an'  was  drivin'  off 
wid  'em  inter  the  sand  hills.  Divil  a  wan  does  know 
who  kilt  'em,  but  there  's  some  ugly  stories  travellin' 
about.  Some  says  Injuns;  some  says  the  posse  run  'em 
down;  an'  Black  Bart  an'  his  dirthy  outfit,  they  swear  it 
was  Keith.  Oi  've  got  me  own  notion.  Annyhow, 
there  's  'bout  three  hundred  dollars,  some  mules,  an'  a 
lot  o'  valyble  papers  missin'." 

"  But  if  it  was  n't  father,  where  is  he  now?  " 
"  That 's  what  Oi  've  been  tryin'  ter  foind  out. 
First  off  he  went  out  to  the  Cimmaron  Crossing, 
gyarded  by  a  squad  o'  cavalry  from  the  fort  here. 
Tommy  Caine  wint  along,  an'  told  me  all  about  it. 
They  dug  up  the  bodies,  but  niver  a  thing  did  they  find 
on  'em  —  not  a  paper,  nor  a  dollar.  They  'd  bin 
robbed  all  roight.  The  owld  Gineral  swore  loike  a  wild 
mon  all  the  way  back.  Tommy  said,  an'  the  first  thing 
he  did  at  Carson  City  was  to  start  huntin'  fer  '  Black 
Bart.'  He  was  two  days  gittin'  on  the  trail  av  him; 
then  he  heard  the  feller  was  gone  away  trapsing  after 


174  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

a  singin'  or  dancin'  gyurl  called  Christie  Maclaire.  She 
was  supposed  to  be  ayther  at  Topeky  or  Sheridan.  A 
freighter  told  the  owld  man  she  was  at  Sheridan,  an'  so 
he  started  there  overland,  hopin'  ter  head  off  '  Black 
Bart.'     Oi  reckon  we  could  a  towld  mor  'n  that." 

*'  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Why  shure,  honey,  what 's  the  use  tryin'  ter  decave 
me?  Didn't  Jack  Keith,  wid  his  own  lips,  tell  me 
ye  was  Christie  Maclaire?  " 

"  But  I  'm  not!  I  'm  not,  Mrs.  Murphy.  I  don't 
even  know  the  woman.  It  is  such  a  strange  thing;  I 
cannot  account  for  it  —  both  those  men  mistook  me  for 
her,  and  —  and  I  let  them.  I  didn't  care  who  the 
man  Hawley  supposed  me  to  be,  but  I  intended  to 
have  told  Mr.  Keith  he  was  mistaken.  I  don't  know 
why  I  did  n't,  only  I  supposed  he  finally  understood. 
But  I  want  you  to  believe,  Mrs.  Murphy  —  I  am  Hope 
Waite,  and  not  Christie  Maclaire." 

"  It 's  little  the  loss  to  ye  not  ter  be  her,  an'  Oi  'm 
thinkin'  loikely  Jack  Keith  will  be  moighty  well  plased 
ter  know  the  truth.  What 's  '  Black  Bart '  so  ayger  ter 
git  hold  av  this  Maclaire  gyurl  fer?  " 

"  I  do  not  in  the  least  know.  He  must  have  induced 
me  to  go  to  that  place  in  the  desert  believing  me  to  be 
the  other  woman.  Yet  he  said  nothing  of  any  purpose ; 
indeed,  he  found  no  opportunity." 


HOPE  GOES  TO  SHERIDAN  175 

Mrs.  Murphy  shook  her  head  disparagingly. 

"  It  was  shure  some  divilment,"  she  asserted,  stoutly. 
"He'll  be  up  to  some  thrick  wid  the  poor  gyurl;  Oi 
know  the  loikes  av  him.  Shure,  the  two  av  yez  must 
look  as  much  aloike  as  two  payes  In  a  pod.  Loikely 
now,  it 's  a  twin  sister  ye  Ve  got?  " 

Hope  smiled,  although  her  eyes  were  misty. 

"Oh,  no;  Fred  and  I  were  the  only  children; 
but  what  shall  I  do?     What  ought  I  to  do?  " 

The  Irish  mouth  of  Kate  Murphy  set  nrmly,  her  blue 
eyes  burning. 

"  It 's  not  sthrong  Oi  am  on  advisin',''  she  said, 
shortly,  "  but  if  it  was  me  Oi  'd  be  fer  foindin'  out 
what  all  this  mix-up  was  about.  There  's  somethin' 
moighty  quare  in  it.  It 's  my  notion  that  Hawley  's 
got  hold  av  thim  papers  av  yer  father's.  The  owld 
gint  thinks  so,  too,  an'  that 's  why  he  's  so  hot  afther 
catchin'  him.  May  the  divil  admoire  me  av  01  know 
where  this  Maclaire  gyurl  comes  in,  but  Oi  '11  bet  the 
black  divil  has  get  her  marked  fer  some  part  in  the 
play.  What  would  Oi  do?  Be  goory,  Oi  'd  go  to 
Sheridan,  an'  foind  the  Gineral,  an'  till  him  all  I  knew. 
Maybe  he  could  piece  it  together,  an'  guess  what  Hawley 
was  up  ter." 

Hope  was  already  upon  her  feet,  her  puzzled  face 
brightening. 


176  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  Oh,  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  do,  but  I  was  not  sure 
it  would  be  best.     How  can  I  get  there  from  here?  " 

"  Ye 'd  have  ter  take  the  stage  back  to  Topeky; 
loikely  they  'd  be  runnin'  thrains  out  from  there  on  the 
new  road.  It  '11  be  aisy  fer  me  ter  foind  out  from  some 
av^  the  lads  down  below." 

The  only  equipment  operating  into  Sheridan  was  a 
construction  train,  with  an  old  battered  passenger 
coach  coupled  to  the  rear.  A  squad  of  heavily  armed 
infantrymen  rode  along,  as  protection  against  possible 
Indian  raiders,  but  there  was  no  crowd  aboard  on  this 
special  trip,  as  all  construction  work  had  been  suspended 
on  the  line  indefinitely,  and  most  of  the  travel,  there- 
fore, had  changed  to  the  eastward.  The  coach  used 
had  a  partition  run  through  it,  and,  as  soon  as  the  busy 
trainmen  discovered  ladies  on  board,  they  unceremo- 
niously drove  the  more  bibulous  passengers,  protesting, 
into  the  forward  compartment.  This  left  Hope  in 
comparative  peace,  her  remaining  neighbors  quiet,  taci- 
turn men,  whom  she  looked  at  through  the  folds  of  her 
veil  during  the  long,  slow,  exasperating  journey,  men- 
tally guessing  at  their  various  occupations.  It  was 
an  exceedingly  tedious,  monotonous  trip,  the  train 
slackening  up,  and  jerking  forward,  apparently  with- 
out slightest  reason;  then  occasionally  achieving  a  full 
stop,  while  men,  always  under  guard,  went  ahead  to 


HOPE  GOES  TO  SHERIDAN  177 

fix  up  some  bit  of  damaged  track,  across  which  the  en- 
gineer dared  not  advance.  At  each  bridge  spanning 
the  numerous  small  streams,  trainmen  examined  the 
structure  before  venturing  forward,  and  at  each  stop 
the  wearied  passengers  grew  more  impatient  and  sar- 
castic, a  perfect  stream  of  fluent  profanity  being  wafted 
back  whenever  the  door  between  the  two  sections 
chanced  to  be  left  ajar. 

Hope  was  not  the  only  woman  on  board,  yet  a  glance 
at  the  others  was  sufficient  to  decide  their  status,  even 
had  their  freedom  of  manner  and  loud  talking  not  made 
It  equally  obvious.  Fearful  lest  she  might  be  mistaken 
for  one  of  the  same  class,  she  remained  in  silence,  her 
veil  merely  lifted  enough  to  enable  her  to  peer  out 
through  the  grimy  window  at  the  barren  view  slipping 
slowly  past.  This  consisted  of  the  bare  prairie,  brown 
and  desolate,  occasionally  intersected  by  some  small 
watercourse,  the  low  hills  rising  and  falling  like  waves  to 
the  far  horizon.  Few  incidents  broke  the  dead  monot- 
ony; occasionally  a  herd  of  antelope  appeared  in  the  dis- 
tance, silhouetted  against  the  sky-line,  and  once  they 
fairly  crept  for  an  hour  through  a  mass  of  buffalo,  graz- 
ing so  close  that  a  fusillade  of  guns  sounded  from  the 
front  end  of  the  train.  A  little  farther  along  she  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  troop  of  wild  horses  dashing  recklessly 
down  into  a  sheltering  ravine.     Yet  principally  all  that 


12 


178  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

met  her  straining  eyes  was  sterile  desolation.  Here 
and  there  a  great  ugly  water  tank  reared  Its  hideous 
shape  beside  the  track,  the  engine  always  pausing  for 
a  fresh  supply.  Beside  It  was  Invariably  a  pile  of  coal, 
a  few  construction  cars,  a  hut  half  burled  under  earth, 
loop-holed  and  barricaded,  with  several  rough  men  loaf- 
ing about,  heavily  armed  and  Inquisitive.  A  few  of 
these  points  had  once  been  terminal,  the  surrounding 
scenery  evidencing  past  glories  by  piles  of  tin  cans,  and 
all  manner  of  debris,  with  occasionally  a  vacant  shack, 
left  deserted  and  forlorn. 

Wearied  and  heartsick,  Hope  turned  away  from  this 
outside  dreariness  to  contemplate  more  closely  her 
neighbors  on  board,  but  found  them  scarcely  more  in- 
teresting. Several  were  playing  cards,  others  moodily 
staring  out  of  the  windows,  while  a  few  were  laughing 
and  talking  with  the  girls,  their  conversation  Inane  and 
punctuated  with  profanity.  One  man  was  figuring  on 
a  scratch  pad,  and  Hope  decided  he  must  be  an  engineer 
employed  on  the  line;  others  she  classed  as  small  mer- 
chants, saloon-keepers,  and  frontier  riff-raff.  They 
would  glance  curiously  at  her  as  they  marched  up  and 
down  the  narrow  aisle,  but  her  veil,  and  averted  face, 
prevented  even  the  boldest  from  speaking.  Once  she 
addressed  the  conductor,  and  the  man  who  was  figuring 
turned  and  looked  back  at  her,  evidently  attracted  by  the 


HOPE  GOES  TO  SHERIDAN  179 

soft  note  of  her  voice.  But  he  made  no  effort  at  ad- 
vances, returning  immediately  to  his  pad,  obHvious  to  all 
else. 

It  was  growing  dusk,  the  outside  world,  now  consist- 
ing of  level  plains,  fading  into  darkness,  with  a  few 
great  stars  burning  overhead.  Trainsmen  lit  the  few 
smoking  oil  lamps  screwed  against  the  sides  of  the  car, 
and  its  occupants  became  little  more  than  dim  shadows. 
All  by  this  time  were  fatigued  Into  silence,  and  several 
were  asleep,  finding  such  small  comfort  as  was  possible 
on  the  cramped  seats.  Hope  glanced  toward  the  here- 
tofore noisy  group  at  the  rear  —  the  girl  nearest  her 
rested  with  unconscious  head  pillowed  upon  the  shoulder 
of  her  man  friend,  and  both  were  sleeping.  How  hag- 
gard and  ghastly  the  woman's  powdered  face  looked, 
with  the  light  just  above  It,  and  all  semblance  of  joy 
gone.  It  was  as  though  a  mask  had  been  taken  off. 
Out  in  the  darkness  the  engine  whistled  sharply  and 
then  came  to  a  bumping  stop  at  some  desert  station. 
Through  the  black  window  a  few  lanterns  could  be  seen 
flickering  about,  and  there  arose  the  sound  of  gruff 
voices  speaking.  The  sleepers  inside,  aroused  by  the 
sharp  stop,  rolled  over  and  swore,  seeking  easier  pos- 
tures. Then  the  front  door  opened,  and  slammed  shut, 
and  a  new  passenger  entered.  He  came  down  the  aisle, 
glancing  carelessly  at  the  upturned  faces,  and  finally 


i8o  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

sank  Into  the  seat  directly  opposite  Hope.  He  was  a 
broad  shouldered  man,  his  coat  buttoned  to  the  throat, 
with  strong  face  showing  clearly  beneath  the  broad  hat 
brim  and  lighted  up  with  a  pair  of  shrewd,  kindly  eyes. 
The  conductor  came  through,  nodded  at  him,  and 
passed  on.  Hope  thought  he  must  be  some  official  of 
the  road,  and  ventured  to  break  the  prolonged  silence 
with  a  question : 

"  Could  you  tell  me  how  long  It  will  be  before  we 
reach  Sheridan?  " 

She  had  partially  pushed  aside  her  veil  in  order  to 
speak  more  clearly,  and  the  man,  turning  at  sound  of 
her  voice,  took  off  his  hat,  his  searching  eyes  quizzical. 

"  Well,  no,  I  can't,  madam,"  the  words  coming  with 
a  jerk.  "  For  I  'm  not  at  all  sure  we  '11  keep  the  track. 
Ought  to  make  it  in  an  hour,  however,  if  everything 
goes  right.     Live  In  Sheridan?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  uncertain  how  frankly  to  answer. 

'*  No  loss  to  you  —  worst  place  to  live  in  on  earth 
—  no  exceptions  —  I  know  —  been  there  myself  three 
months  —  got  friends  there  likely  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,"  she  acknowledged  doubtfully. 
*'  I  think  so,  but  I  shall  have  to  hunt  some  place  In 
which  to  stay  to-night.  Can  you  tell  me  of  some  — 
some  respectable  hotel,  or  boarding  house?  " 


HOPE  GOES  TO  SHERIDAN  i8i 

The  man  wheeled  about,  until  he  could  look  at  her 
more  clearly. 

"  That 's  a  pretty  hard  commission,  Miss,"  he  re- 
turned uneasily;  "  There  may  be  such  a  place  in  Sheri- 
dan, but  I  have  never  found  it.  Old  Mother  Shattuck 
keeps  roomers,  but  she  won't  have  a  woman  in  the 
house.  I  reckon  you  '11  have  to  try  it  at  the  hotel  — 
I  '11  get  you  in  there  if  I  have  to  mesmerize  the  clerk 
—  you  '11  find  it  a  bit  noisy  though." 

"  Oh,  I  thank  you  so  much.  I  don't  mind  the  noise, 
so  it  is  respectable." 

He  laughed,  good  humoredly. 

"  Well  I  don't  propose  to  vouch  for  that  —  the  pro- 
prietor ain't  out  there  for  his  health  —  but,  I  reckon, 
you  won't  have  no  serious  trouble  —  the  boys  mostly 
know  a  good  woman  when  they  see  one  —  which  Is  n't 
often  —  anyhow,  they  're  liable  to  be  decent  enough  as 
long  as  I  vouch  for  you." 

"  But  you  know  nothing  of  me." 

"  Don't  need  to  —  your  face  is  enough  —  I  '11  get  you 
the  room  all  right." 

She  hesitated,  then  asked : 

"  Are  you  —  are  you  connected  with  the  railroad?  " 

"  In  a  way,  yes  —  I  'm  the  contract  surgeon  —  had 
to  dig  a  bullet  out  of  a  water-tank  tender  back  yonder 


i82  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

—  fellow  howled  as  though  I  was  killing  him  —  no 
nerve  —  mighty  poor  stuff  most  of  the  riff-raff  out  here 

—  ball  wasn't  in  much  below  the  skin  —  Indian  must 
have  plugged  him  from  the  top  of  the  bluff  —  blame 
good  shot  too  —  ragged  looking  slug  —  like  to  see  it?  " 

She  shook  her  head  energetically. 

"  Don't  blame  you  —  nothing  very  uncommon  — 
get  a  dozen  cases  like  it  a  day  sometimes  —  stay  in 
Sheridan,  show  you  something  worth  while  —  very 
pretty  surgical  operation  to-morrow  —  come  round  and 
get  you  if  you  care  to  see  it  —  got  to  open  the  stomach 

—  don't  know  what  I  '11  find  —  like  to  go  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  I  'm  sure  you  mean  it  all  kindly,  but  — 
but  I  would  rather  not." 

"  Hardly  supposed  you  would  —  only  knew  one 
woman  who  cared  for  that  sort  of  thing  much  —  she 
was  nursing  for  me  during  the  war  —  had  a  hair  lip  and 
an  eye  like  a  dagger  —  good  nurse  though  —  rather 
have  your  kind  round  me  —  ever  nurse  any  ?  Could  get 
you  a  dozen  jobs  in  Sheridan  —  new  prospects  every 
night  —  fifty  dollars  a  week  —  what  do  you  say?  " 

"  But  I  'm  not  seeking  work.  Doctor,"  smiling  In  spite 
of  her  bewilderment.  "  I  have  money  enough  with 
me." 

"  Well,  I  did  n't  know  —  thought  maybe  you  wanted 
a  job,  and  did  n't  like  to  ask  for  it  —  have  known  'em 


HOPE  GOES  TO  SHERIDAN  183 

like  that  —  no  harm  done  —  if  you  ever  do  want  any- 
thing hke  that,  just  come  to  me  —  my  name  's  Fair- 
bain  —  everybody  knows  me  here  —  operated  on  most 
of  'em  —  rest  expect  to  be —  Damn  that  engineer! 
don't  believe  he  knows  whether  he  's  going  ahead  or 
backing  up."  He  peered  out  of  the  window,  pressing 
his  face  hard  against  the  glass.  "  I  reckon  that 's  Sheri- 
dan he  's  whistling  for  now  ' —  don't  be  nervous  —  I  '11 
see  you  make  the  hotel  all  right." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    MARSHAL    OF    SHERIDAN 

IT  was  called  a  depot  merely  through  courtesy,  con- 
sisting of  a  layer  of  cinders,  scattered  promis- 
cuously so  as  to  partially  conceal  the  underlying  mud, 
and  a  dismantled  box  car,  in  which  presided  ticket  agent 
and  telegrapher.  A  hundred  yards  below  was  the  big 
shack  where  the  railroad  officials  lodged.  Across  the 
tracks  blazed  invitingly  the  "  First  Chance  "  saloon. 
All  intervening  space  was  crowded  with  men,  surging 
aimlessly  about  in  the  glare  of  a  locomotive  head  light, 
and  greeting  the  alighting  passengers  with  free  and  easy 
badinage.  Stranger  or  acquaintance  made  no  differ- 
ence, the  welcome  to  Sheridan  was  noisily  extended, 
while  rough  play  and  hoarse  laughter  characterized  the 
mass. 

Hope  paused  on  the  step,  even  as  Dr.  Fairbain 
grasped  her  hand,  dinned  by  the  medley  of  discordant 
sounds,  and  confused  by  the  vociferous  jam  of  humanity. 
A  band  came  tooting  down  the  street  in  a  hack,  a  fellow, 
with  a  voice  like  a  fog  horn,  howling  on  the  front  seat. 
The  fellows  at  the  side  of  the  car  surged  aside  to  get 

184 


THE  MARSHAL  OF  SHERIDAN        185 

a  glimpse  of  this  new  attraction,  and  Fairbain,  taking 
quick  advantage  of  the  opportunity  thus  presented, 
swung  his  charge  to  the  cinders  below.  Bending  be- 
fore her,  and  butting  his  great  shoulders  into  the 
surging  crowd,  he  succeeded  in  pushing  a  passage 
through,  thus  finally  bringing  her  forth  to  the  edge  of 
the  street. 

"  Hey,  there,"  he  said  shortly,  grabbing  a  shirt- 
sleeved  individual  by  the  arm.     "  Where  's  Charlie?  " 

The  fellow  looked  at  him  wonderingly. 

"CharHe?  Oh,  you  mean  the  'Kid'?  Well,  he 
ain't  here  ter-night;  had  a  weddin',  an'  is  totin'  the 
bridal  couple  'round." 

Fairbain  swore  discreetly  under  his  breath,  and  cast 
an  uncertain  glance  at  the  slender  figure  shrinking  be- 
side him.  The  streets  of  Sheridan  were  not  over  pleas- 
ant at  night. 

"  Only  hack  In  town  Is  somewhere  else.  Miss,"  he 
explained  briefly.  "  I  reckon  you  and  I  will  have  to 
hoof  it." 

He  felt  the  grip  of  her  fingers  on  his  sleeve. 

"  The  boys  are  a  little  noisy,  but  It 's  just  their  way 
—  don't  mean  anything  —  you  hang  on  to  me,  an'  keep 
the  veil  down  —  we  '11  be  there  In  the  shake  of  a  dog's 
tail." 

He  helped  her  over  the  muddy  crossing,  and  as  they 


i86  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

reached  a  stretch  of  board  walk,  began  expatiating  on 
the  various  places  lining  the  way. 

"  That 's  the  '  Mammoth  '  over  there, —  dance  hall 
back  of  it  —  biggest  thing  west  of  the  Missouri  —  three 
men  killed  there  last  week  —  what  for?  Oh,  they  got 
too  fresh  —  that 's  the  '  Casino,'  and  the  one  beyond  is 
'  Pony  Joe's  Place  ' —  cut  his  leg  off  since  I  've  been  here 

—  fight  over  a  girl.  Ain't  there  any  stores?  —  sure; 
they  're  farther  back  —  you  see  the  saloons  got  in  first 

—  that 's  '  Sheeny  Mike's  '  gambling  joint  you  're  look- 
ing at  —  like  to  go  over  and  see  'em  play?  All  right, 
just  thought  I'd  ask  you  —  it's  early  anyhow,  and 
things  would  n't  be  goin'  very  lively  yet.  Say,  there, 
you  red  head,  what  are  you  trying  to  do?  " 

The  fellow  had  lurched  out  of  the  crowd  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  brush  partially  aside  the  girl's  veil,  per- 
mitting the  glare  of  "  Sheeny  Mike's  "  lights  to  fall  full 
upon  her  revealed  face.  It  was  accomplished  so  openly 
as  to  appear  planned,  but  before  he  could  reel  away 
again,  Fairbain  struck  out,  and  the  man  went  down. 
With  an  oath  he  was  on  his  feet,  and  Hope  cowered 
back  against  her  protector.  Each  man  had  weapons 
drawn,  the  crowd  scurrying  madly  to  keep  out  of  the 
line  of  fire,  when,  with  a  stride,  a  new  figure  stepped 
quietly  in  between  them.     Straight  as  an  arrow,  broad 


THE  MARSHAL  OF  SHERIDAN        187 

shouldered,  yet  small  waisted  as  a  woman,  his  hair 
hanging  low  over  his  coat-collar,  his  face  smooth  shaven 
except  for  a  long  moustache,  and  emotionless,  the  revol- 
vers in  his  belt  untouched,  he  simply  looked  at  the  two, 
and  then  struck  the  revolver  out  of  the  drunken  man's 
hand.     It  fell  harmless  to  the  ground. 

"  And  don't  you  pick  it  up  until  I  tell  you,  Scott," 
he  said  quietly.     "  If  you  do  you  've  got  to  fight  me." 

Without  apparently  giving  the  fellow  another 
thought,  he  wheeled  and  faced  the  others. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it.  Doctor?  The  drunken  fool 
won't  make  any  more  trouble.  Where  were  you  taking 
the  lady?" 

"  To  the  hotel.  Bill." 

"  I  '11  walk  along  with  you.  I  reckon  the  boys  will 
give  us  plenty  of  room."  He  glanced  over  the  crowd, 
and  then  more  directly  at  Scott. 

"  Pick  up  your  gun!  "  the  brief  words  snapping  out. 
"  This  is  the  second  time  I  've  caught  you  hunting 
trouble.  The  next  time  you  are  going  to  find  it.  I 
saw  you  run  into  the  lady  —  what  did  you  do  it  for?  " 

"  I  only  wanted  to  see  who  she  was.  Bill." 

"  You  need  n't  call  me  Bill.  I  don't  trot  in  your 
class.  My  name  Is  Hickock  to  you.  Was  it  any  of 
your  affair  who  she  was?  " 


1 88  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  I  reckoned  I  know'd  her,  and  I  did." 

The  marshal  turned  his  eyes  toward  Hope,  and  then 
back  upon  Scott,  evidently  slightly  interested. 

"  So?     Recognized  an  old  friend,  I  suppose?  " 

The  slight  sneer  in  "  Wild  Bill's  "  soft  voice  caused 
Scott  to  flame  up  in  sudden  passion. 

"  No,  I  did  n't !  but  I  called  the  turn  just  the  same 
—  she's  Christie  Maclalre." 

The  marshal  smiled. 

"  All  right,  little  boy,"  he  said  soberly.  "  Now  you 
trot  straight  along  to  bed.  Don't  let  me  catch  you  on 
the  street  again  to-night,  and  I  'd  advise  you  not  to 
pull  another  gun  —  you  're  too  slow  on  the  trigger  for 
this  town.  Come  along.  Doctor,  and  we  '11  get  Miss 
Maclaire  to  her  hotel." 

He  shouldered  his  way  through  the  collected  crowd, 
the  others  following.  Hope  endeavored  to  speak,  to 
explain  to  Fairbain  who  she  actually  was,  realizing  then, 
for  the  first  time,  that  she  had  not  previously  given 
him  her  name.  Amidst  the  incessant  noise  and  con- 
fusion, the  blaring  of  brass,  and  the  jangle  of  voices, 
she  found  it  impossible  to  make  the  man  comprehend. 
She  pressed  closer  to  him,  holding  more  tightly  to  his 
arm,  stunned  and  confused  by  the  fierce  uproar.  The 
stranger  steadily  pushing  ahead  of  them,  and  opening  a 


THE  MARSHAL  OF  SHERIDAN        189 

path  for  their  passage,  fascinated  her,  and  her  eyes 
watched  him  curiously.  His  name  was  an  oddly  famil- 
iar one,  associated  in  vague  memory  with  some  of  the 
most  desperate  deeds  ever  witnessed  in  the  West,  yet 
always  found  on  the  side  of  law  and  order;  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  conceive  that  this  quiet-spoken,  mild-eyed,  gently 
smiling  man  could  indeed  be  the  most  famous  gun 
fighter  on  the  border,  hated,  feared,  yet  thoroughly 
respected,  by  every  desperado  between  the  Platte  and 
the  Canadian.  Beyond  the  glare  and  glitter  of  the 
Metropolitan  Dance  Hall  the  noisy  crowd  thinned  away 
somewhat,  and  the  marshal  ventured  to  drop  back  be- 
side Fairbain,  yet  vigilantly  watched  every  approaching 
face. 

"  Town  appears  unusually  lively  to-night.  Bill,"  ob- 
served the  latter  gravely,  "  and  the  boys  have  got  an 
early  start." 

"  West  end  graders  just  paid  off,"  was  the  reply. 
"  They  have  been  whoopin'  it  up  ever  since  noon,  and 
are  beginning  to  get  ugly.  Now  the  rest  of  the  outfit 
are  showing  up,  and  there  will  probably  be  something 
interesting  happening  before  morning.  Would  n't 
mind  it  so  much  if  I  had  a  single  deputy  worth  his  salt." 

"What's  the  matter  with  Bain?" 

"  Nothing,  while  he  was  on  the  job,  but  '  Red  '  Hag- 


I90  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

gerty  got  him  in  '  Pony  Joe's  '  shebang  two  hours  ago ; 
shot  him  In  the  back  across  the  bar.  Ned  never  even 
pulled  his  gun." 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  that;  what  became  of  Hag- 
gerty?" 

The  marshal  let  his  eyes  rest  questioningly  on  the 
doctor's  face  for  an  instant. 

"  Well,  I  happened  to  be  just  behind  Ned  when  he 
went  in,"  he  said  gently,  "  and  '  Red  '  will  be  buried  on 
'  Boots  Hill '  to-morrow.  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  give  you 
much  chance  to  show  your  skill.  Doc,"  with  a  smile. 

"  If  they  all  shot  like  you  do,  my  profession  would 
be  useless.  What 's  the  matter  with  your  other 
deputies?  " 

"Lack  of  nerve,  principally,  I  reckon;  ain't  one  of 
'em  worth  the  powder  to  blow  him  up.  I  'd  give  some- 
thing just  now  for  a  fellow  I  had  down  at  Dodge  — 
he  was  a  man.  Never  had  to  tell  him  when  to  go  in ; 
good  judgment  too ;  was  n't  out  hunting  for  trouble,  but 
always  ready  enough  to  take  his  share.  Old  soldier  in 
our  army.  Captain  I  heard,  though  he  never  talked 
much  about  himself;  maybe  you  knew  him  —  Jack 
Keith." 

"  Well,  I  reckon,"  in  quick  surprise,  "  and  what 's 
more  to  the  point,  he  's  here  —  slept  In  my  room  last 
night." 


THE  MARSHAL  OF  SHERIDAN       191 

"Keith  here?  In  Sheridan?  And  hasn't  even 
hunted  me  up  yet?  That's  Hke  him,  all  right,  but  I 
honestly  want  to  see  the  boy.  Here  's  your  hotel. 
Shall  you  need  me  any  longer?  " 

"  Better  step  In  with  us,  Bill,"  the  doctor  advised, 
"  your  moral  influence  might  aid  in  procuring  the  lady 
a  decent  room." 

"  I  reckon  It  might." 

They  passed  together  up  the  three  rickety  steps  lead- 
ing Into  the  front  hall,  which  latter  opened  directly  Into 
the  cramped  office;  to  the  left  was  the  wide-open  bar- 
room, clamorous  and  throbbing  with  life.  A  narrow 
bench  stood  against  the  wall,  with  a  couple  of  half 
drunken  men  lounging  upon  It.  The  marshal  routed 
them  out  with  a  single,  expressive  gesture. 

"  Wait  here  with  the  lady,  Fairbain,"  he  said  shortly, 
"  and  I  '11  arrange  for  the  room." 

They  watched  him  glance  in  at  the  bar,  vigilant 
and  cautious,  and  then  move  directly  across  to  the  desk. 

"  Tommy,"  he  said  genially  to  the  clerk.  "  I  've  just 
escorted  a  lady  here  from  the  train  —  Miss  Maclaire 
—  and  want  you  to  give  her  the  very  best  room  in 
your  old  shebang." 

The  other  looked  at  him  doubtfully. 

"  Hell,  Bill,  I  don't  know  how  I  'm  goin'  to  do  that," 
he  acknowledged.     "  She  wrote  In  here  to  the  boss  for 


192  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

a  room;  said  she'd  be  along  yesterday.  Well,  she 
did  n't  show  up,  an'  so  to-night  we  let  a  fellow  have 
it.     He  's  up  there  now." 

"  Well,  he  '11  have  to  vamose  —  who  is  he  ?  " 

"  Englishman  — *  Walter  Spotteswood  Montgom- 
ery,' "  consulting  his  book.  "  Hell  of  a  pompous  duck; 
the  boys  call  him  '  Juke  Montgomery.'  " 

"All  right;  send  some  one  up  to  rout  his  lordship 
out  lively." 

Tommy  shuffled  his  feet,  and  looked  again  at  the  mar- 
shal; he  had  received  positive  orders  about  that  room, 
and  was  fully  convinced  that  Montgomery  would  not 
take  kindly  to  eviction.  But  Hickock's  quiet  gray  eyes 
were  insistent. 

"  Here,  '  Red,'  "  he  finally  called  to  the  burly  porter, 
"hustle  up  to  '  15,'  an'  tell  that  fellow  Montgomery 
he  's  got  to  get  out;  tell  him  we  want  the  room  for  a 
lady." 

Hickock  watched  the  man  disappear  up  the  stairs, 
helped  himself  carefully  to  a  cigar  out  of  the  stand, 
tossing  a  coin  to  the  clerk  and  then  deliberately  light- 
ing up. 

"Think  Montgomery  will  be  pleased?"  he  asked 
shortly. 

"  No;  he  '11  probably  throw  '  Red  '  down  stairs." 


THE  MARSHAL  OF  SHERIDAN       193 

The  marshal  smiled,  his  glance  turning  expectantly  in 
that  direction. 

"  Then  perhaps  I  had  better  remain,  Tommy." 
And  he  strolled  nonchalantly  over  to  the  open  window, 
and  stood  there  looking  quietly  out,  a  spiral  of  blue 
smoke  rising  from  his  cigar. 

They  could  distinctly  hear  the  pounding  on  the  door 
above,  and  occasionally  the  sound  of  the  porter's  voice, 
but  the  straight,  erect  figure  at  the  window  remained 
motionless.  Finally  "  Red  "  came  down,  nursing  his 
knuckles. 

"  Says  he  '11  be  damned  if  he  will  —  says  he  '9  gone 
to  bed,  an'  that  there  ain't  a  cussed  female  in  this 
blasted  country  he  'd  git  up  for,"  he  reported  circum- 
stantially to  the  clerk.  "  He  told  me  to  tell  you  to  go 
plumb  to  hell,  an'  that  if  any  one  else  come  poundin' 
'round  thar  to-night,  he  'd  take  a  pot  shot  at  'em  through 
the  door.  '  Fifteen '  seemed  a  bit  peevish,  sir,  an'  I 
reckoned  if  he  was  riled  up  much  more,  he  might  git 
rambunctious;  his  language  was  sure  fierce." 

"  Wild  Bill  "  turned  slowly  around,  still  calmly  smok- 
ing, his  eyes  exhibiting  mild  amusement. 

"  Did  you  clearly  inform  Mr. —  ah  —  Montgomery 
that  we  desired  the  room  for  the  use  of  a  lady?"  he 
questioned  gently,  apparently  both  pained  and  shocked. 
13 


194  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  I  did,  sir." 

"  It  surprises  me  to  find  one  in  our  city  with  so  little 
regard  for  the  ordinary  courtesies  of  life,  Tommy. 
Perhaps  I  can  persuade  the  gentleman." 

He  disappeared  up  the  stairs,  taking  them  deliber- 
ately step  by  step,  the  cigar  still  smoking  between  his 
lips.      "  Red  "  called  after  him. 

"  Keep  away  from  in  front  of  the  door.  Bill;  he'll 
shoot  sure,  for  he  cocked  his  gun  when  I  was  up  there." 

Hickock  glanced  back,  and  waved  his  hand. 

"Don't  worry  —  the  room  occupied  by  Mr. —  ah 
—  Montgomery  was  '  15,'  I  believe  you  said?  " 

Whatever  occurred  above,  it  was  over  with  very 
shortly.  Those  listening  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  heard 
the  first  gentle  rap  on  the  door,  an  outburst  of  profan- 
ity, followed  almost  Instantly  by  a  sharp  snap,  as  If 
a  lock  had  given  way,  then  brief  scuffling  mingled  with 
the  loud  creaking  of  a  bed.  Scarcely  a  minute  later 
the  marshal  appeared  on  the  landing  above,  one  hand 
firmly  gripped  in  the  neck-band  of  an  undershirt,  thus 
securely  holding  the  writhing,  helpless  figure  of  a  man, 
who  swore  violently  every  time  he  could  catch  his 
breath. 

"  Any  other  room  you  could  conveniently  assign  Mr. 
■ — ah  —  Montgomery  to.  Tommy?"  he  asked  pleas- 


THE  MARSHAL  OF  SHERIDAN        195 

antly.  "  If  he  does  n't  like  it  in  the  morning,  he  could 
be  changed,  you  know." 

"  Give  —  give  him  '  47.'  " 

"  All  right.  I  'm  the  bell-boy  temporarily,  Mont- 
gomery; easy  now,  my  man,  easy,  or  I  '11  be  compelled 
to  use  both  hands.  *  Red,'  carry  the  gentleman's  lug- 
gage to  *  47  ' —  he  has  kindly  consented  to  give  up  his 
old  room  to  a  lady  —  come  along,  Montgomery." 

It  was  possibly  five  minutes  later  when  he  came  down, 
still  smoking,  his  face  not  even  flushed. 

"  Montgomery  is  feeling  so  badly  we  were  obliged  to 
lock  him  in,"  he  reported  to  the  clerk.  "  Seems  to  be 
of  a  somewhat  nervous  disposition.  Well,  good-night, 
Doctor,"  he  lifted  his  hat.  "  And  to  you,  Miss,  pleas- 
ant dreams." 

Hope  watched  him  as  he  stepped  outside,  pausing 
a  moment  in  the  shadows  to  glance  keenly  up  and  down 
the  long  street  before  venturing  down  the  steps.  This 
quiet  man  had  enemies,  hundreds  of  them,  desperate 
and  reckless;  ceaseless  vigilance  alone  protected  him. 
Yet  her  eyes  only,  and  not  her  thoughts,  were  riveted  on 
the  disappearing  marshal.  She  turned  to  Fairbain,  who 
had  risen  to  his  feet. 

"  I  wish  I  might  see  him,  also,"  she  said,  as  though 
continuing  an  Interrupted  conversation. 


196  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"See  him?     Who?" 

"  Mr.  Keith.  I  —  I  knew  him  once,  and  —  and, 
Doctor,  won't  you  tell  him  I  should  like  to  have  him 
come  and  see  me  just  —  just  as  soon  as  he  can." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AN    INTERRUPTED    INTERVIEW 

MISS  CHRISTIE  MACLAIRE,  attired  in  a  soft 
lounging  robe,  her  luxuriant  hair  wound  simply 
about  her  head,  forming  a  decidedly  attractive  picture, 
gazed  with  manifest  dissatisfaction  on  the  bare  walls  of 
her  room,  and  then  out  through  the  open  window  into 
the  comparatively  quiet  street  below.  The  bar-tender 
at  the  "  Palace,"  directly  opposite,  business  being  slack, 
was  leaning  negligently  in  the  doorway.  His  roving 
eyes  caught  the  fair  face  framed  in  the  window,  and  he 
waved  his  hand  encouragingly.  Miss  Christie's  big 
brown  eyes  stared  across  at  him  in  silent  disgust,  and 
then  wandered  again  about  the  room,  her  foot  tapping 
nervously  on  the  rag  carpet. 

"  It 's  my  very  last  trip  to  this  town,"  she  said  de- 
cisively, her  red  lips  pressed  tightly  together. 

Miss  Maclaire  had  indeed  ample  reason  to  feel 
aggrieved  over  her  reception.  She  had  written  to  have 
the  best  apartment  In  the  house  reserved  for  her,  and 
then,  merely  because  she  had  later  been  invited  out  to 
Fort  Hays,  and  was  consequently  a  day  behind  in  ar- 

197 


19^  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

rival,  had  discovered  that  another  woman  —  a  base 
imposter,  actually  masquerading  under  her  name  — 
had  been  duly  installed  in  the  coveted  apartment. 
Driving  in  from  the  fort  that  morning,  accompanied 
by  two  of  the  more  susceptible  junior  officers,  conscious 
that  she  had  performed  most  artistic  work  the  evening 
before  in  the  spacious  mess-hall,  and  feeling  confident 
of  comfortable  quarters  awaiting  her,  It  had  been  some- 
thing of  a  shock  to  be  Informed  by  the  perturbed  clerk 
that  "  15  "  was  already  occupied  by  another.  "  A  lady 
what  come  in  last  night,  and  I  naturally  supposed  it  was 
you." 

In  vain  Miss  Maclaire  protested,  ably  backed  by 
the  worshipful  officers  who  still  gallantly  attended  her; 
the  management  was  obdurate.  Then  she  would  go  up 
herself,  and  throw  the  hussy  out.  Indeed,  too  angry 
for  bantering  further  words,  Christie  had  actually 
started  for  the  stairs.  Intending  to  execute  her  threat, 
when  the  perspiring  Tommy  succeeded  in  stopping  her, 
by  plainly  blurting  out  the  exact  truth. 

"  Don't  you  ever  do  it,"  he  Insisted.  "  The  marshal 
brought  her  In  here,  and  fired  a  fellow  out  o'  the  room 
so  as  to  give  It  to  her.  He  'd  clean  out  this  house  If 
we  ran  In  a  cold  deck  on  a  friend  o'  his." 

"  What  do  I  care  for  what  your  marshal  does?  " 


AN  INTERRUPTED  INTERVIEW      199 

"  But  he  's  Bill  Hickock,  Miss,  '  Wild  Bill.'  " 

Miss  Maclaire  leaned  back  against  the  stalr-rall, 
her  eyes  turning  from  Tommy  to  her  speechless  sup- 
porters. Slowly  the  truth  seemed  to  penetrate  her 
brain. 

"  Oh,"  she  gasped  at  last.  "  Then  —  then  what 
else  can  you  give  me?  " 

The  officers  had  long  since  departed,  promising,  how- 
ever, to  remain  over  in  town  and  hear  her  again  that 
night  at  the  Trocadero,  with  hints  as  to  a  late  supper; 
she  had  received  a  call  from  the  manager  of  that  most 
popular  resort,  and  had  rendered  his  life  miserable  by 
numerous  demands;  had  passed  half  an  hour  practising 
with  the  leader  of  the  orchestra;  but  now  was  at  last 
alone,  tired,  decidedly  Irritable,  and  still  tempted  to 
Invade  "  15,"  and  give  that  other  woman  a  piece  of 
her  mind.  Then  someone  rapped  on  the  door.  There 
was  a  decided  accent  of  vexation  in  the  voice  which 
bade  the  one  outside  enter,  but  the  lady's  mood  changed 
swiftly  as  her  brown  eyes  perceived  standing  In  the  door- 
way the  erect  form  of  Keith,  the  light  from  the  win- 
dow revealing  clearly  his  strong  face.  The  man  stood 
hat  in  hand,  bowing  slightly,  unable  to  comprehend 
why  he  should  have  been  sent  for,  yet  marvelling  again 
at  the  remarkable  resemblance  between  this  woman  and 


200  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

that  other  whom  he  had  left  at  Fort  Larned.  As  Miss 
Maclaire  stood  with  back  toward  the  window,  she  pre- 
sented the  same  youthful  appearance,  the  same  slender- 
ness  of  figure,  the  same  contour  of  face. 

"  Miss  Christie  Maclaire?"  he  asked,  as  though  in 
doubt. 

"  Yes,"  graciously,  won  instantly  by  the  man's  ap- 
pearance and  manner,  "you  wished  to  see  me?  Will 
you  be  seated?  " 

He  crossed  the  narrow  room  to  the  stiff-backed  chair 
Indicated,  and  the  lady  sank  negligently  down  into  her 
own,  resting  her  head  against  a  pillow,  and  regarding 
him  expectantly.  He  could  view  her  now  much  more 
distinctly,  observing  the  slight  difference  in  age,  the 
fuller  lips,  the  darker  shade  of  the  hair,  and  the  varied 
expression  of  the  eyes.  It  was  as  if  a  different  soul 
looked  forth  from  the  same  face.  He  had  never  be- 
fore realized  how  little,  apparently  trifling,  details 
marked  the  human  countenance,  and,  embarrassed  by 
her  own  scrutiny,  his  glance  swept  about  the  room. 
Misunderstanding  this  shifting  of  eyes.  Miss  Christie 
sought  to  place  the  man  more  at  ease. 

"  The  room  is  a  perfect  fright,"  she  observed 
briskly,  "  but  what  can  one  expect  in  these  mushroom 
towns?  Really  I  had  never  been  here  before,  or  I 
should  n't  have  come.     They  pay  good  money  though 


AN  INTERRUPTED  INTERVIEW      201 

for  talent,  and  we  all  have  to  live,  you  know.  Are  — 
are  you  in  professional  work?  " 

He  shook  his  head,  smiling,  somewhat  perplexed  at 
his  reception. 

"  Really  I  did  n't  suppose  you  were,"  she  went  on, 
"  you  don't  look  it.  But  there  are  so  many  who  come 
to  me  to  help  them,  that  I  have  grown  suspicious  of 
every  stranger.  May  I  ask  why  you  desired  to  see 
me?" 

Another  suspicion  had  taken  possession  of  her  mind, 
for  the  men  of  that  section  were  never  backward  in 
exhibiting  admiration,  yet  somehow  this  man  did  not 
seem  exactly  of  that  kind. 

"  I  came  merely  because  I  was  sent  for.  Miss 
Maclaire,"  he  replied,  his  gray  eyes  once  again  upon 
her  face.  "Doctor  Fairbain  gave  me  your  message; 
I  am  Jack  Keith." 

She  looked  the  complete  astonishment  she  felt,  sitting 
up  in  the  chair,  her  eyes  filled  with  questioning  doubt. 

"  Doctor  Fairbain  !  My  message !  Surely  you  are 
mistaken?  I  know  no  one  of  that  name,  and  have  sent 
no  message." 

"  You  did  not  express  a  desire  to  see  me?  " 

She  laughed,  exhibiting  a  row  of  white  teeth. 

"Certainly  not;  not  until  this  moment  was  I  even 
aware  of  the  existence  of  Mr.  Jack  Keith." 


202  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

His  own  eyes  smiled  in  response  to  the  challenge  of 
hers. 

"  I  can  assure  you  the  surprise  was  mine  also,"  he 
hastened  to  inform  her,  now  more  at  ease,  as  he  grasped 
the  situation.  "  I  could  not  understand  how  I  had  be- 
come known  to  you,  yet  I  pledge  you  my  word  the  mes- 
sage was  actually  brought.  Of  course  you  may  sus- 
picion otherwise,  for  I  have  seen  you  on  the  stage,  and 
being  a  normal  man,  have  wished  that  I  could  devise 
some  excuse  for  meeting  you." 

"  Indeed!  "  her  eye-brows  slightly  uplifted. 

"  Yes,  I  make  that  confession  frankly,  yet  this  call 
comes  from  no  such  desire.  I  had  no  question  when 
I  came,  but  what  I  had  been  sent  for  —  you  will  be- 
lieve this?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  must,  yet  It  seems  very  peculiar,"  she 
replied,  feeling  convinced  that  he  was  a  gentleman,  and 
troubled  as  to  what  she  had  best  do.  "  Yet  now  that 
you  have  discovered  your  mistake  — " 

"  I  hope  to  take  advantage  of  the  opportunity,"  he 
broke  In  firmly,  leaning  slightly  fonvard.  "  May  I 
ask  you  a  question?" 

"  I  could  hardly  prevent  It,  and  really  I  do  not  know 
that  I  have  anything  to  conceal." 

"Then  I  will  risk  the  effort  —  do  you  know  a  man 
named  Hawley  ?  —  Bartlett  Hawley?  " 


AN  INTERRUPTED  INTERVIEW      203 

Her  eyes  did  not  falter,  although  a  red  spot  shot 
into  her  cheeks,  and  her  lips  pressed  together. 

"No;  that  is  I  have  never  met  him,"  she  acknowl- 
edged, just  a  trifle  confused.  "  But  I  have  received  two 
letters  signed  by  that  name,  and  rather  expected  the 
gentleman  would  call  upon  me  here  in  Sheridan  during 
my  engagement.  Is  that  your  mission?  Were  you 
sent  by  him?  or  are  you  Mr.  Hawley?  " 

"  I  disclaim  all  relation,  Miss  Maclaire,  even  friend- 
ship.    You,  of  course,  know  who  this  individual  is?  " 

"  No,"  the  short  monosyllable  was  not  encourag- 
ing.    **  His  messages  were  of  a  business  character." 

"  So  I  presumed,  yet  one  likes  to  know  something 
even  of  the  person  he  does  business  with.  I  have  been 
acquainted  with  Hawley  for  several  years,  and  have 
never  been  aware  of  any  honorable  business  he  has 
ever  engaged  in.  He  is  a  professional  gambler,  known 
on  the  frontier  as  '  Black  Bart ' ;  last  night  he  was  run- 
ning a  faro  game  across  there  in  the  '  Palace.'  I  can- 
not help  wondering  what  kind  of  business  such  a 
fellow  could  possibly  have  with  you,  Miss  Maclaire." 

The  woman's  eyes  flashed,  hardening  in  their  brown 
depths. 

"What  right  have  you  to  ask?"  she  began  indig- 
nantly. "  I  am  capable  of  deciding  my  own  affairs. 
As  I  have  told  you  I  have  never  met  Mr.  Hawley, 


204  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

but  I  am  not  to  be  influenced  against  him  merely  by 
the  denunciation  of  an  avowed  enemy.  He  has  written 
me  of  something  he  has  discovered  which  is  of  deep 
personal  interest  to  me,  and  has  promised  to  tell  me 
the  details,  as  well  as  place  within  my  hands  certain 
necessary  papers." 

"  I  appreciate  your  feelings,"  he  said  gently,  as  she 
paused,  "  but  would  you  mind  telling  me  the  nature  of 
those  papers?  " 

There  was  something  in  Keith's  face  which  told  of 
honesty,  and  inspired  confidence.  Miss  Maclaire's 
worldly  experience  had  given  her  deep  insight  into  the 
character  of  men,  and  somehow,  as  she  looked  into  the 
clear  gray  eyes,  she  felt  impelled  to  answer,  a  vague 
doubt  of  the  unknown  Hawley  in  her  mind. 

"  They  —  they  were  papers  to  establish  identity. 
He  had  discovered  them  by  accident;  they  have  to  do 
with  an  inheritance.  Really  that  is  all  I  know,  for  he 
wrote  very  briefly,  stating  it  would  be  safer  to  confer 
with  me  personally  —  only  I  imagine  there  is  a  large 
sum  involved." 

"  From  whose  estate?" 

"  My  grandfather's." 

"  And  his  name  was?  " 

"  Why  —  why,  Mr.  Keith,  actually  I  do  not  know. 
It  may  seem  strange,  but  —  but  I  cannot  even  tell  the 


AN  INTERRUPTED  INTERVIEW      205 

names  of  my  parents;  I  cannot  remember  either  my 
father  or  mother.  Oh,  I  do  not  know  why  I  should 
tell  you  all  this !  Who  are  you,  really  ?  Why  do  you 
ask  me  such  questions  ?  " 

He  leaned  forward,  touched  by  the  woman's  emo- 
tion. 

"  Miss  Maclaire,"  he  said  gravely.  "  I  am  not  pry- 
ing into  your  life  needlessly,  but  am  endeavoring  to 
serve  you  as  well  as  others.  Hawley  may  indeed  pos- 
sess papers  of  great  value,  but  if  so  they  were  not  found 
by  accident,  but  stolen  from  the  body  of  a  murdered 
man.  These  papers  may  possibly  refer  to  you,  but  if 
so  Hawley  himself  does  not  believe  it  —  he  has  simply 
chosen  you  to  impersonate  the  right  party  because  of 
your  physical  resemblance." 

"  Resemblance  to  whom?  " 

"  To  a  young  woman,  a  Miss  Hope." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  this?  Why  should  you  be 
Interested?     Are  you  a  detective?" 

"  No,  I  am  not  a  detective,  but  I  cannot  explain  to 
you  my  interest.  I  am  trying  to  serve  you,  to  keep  you 
from  being  drawn  Into  a  plot  — " 

"  Rather  to  keep  me  from  learning  the  truth,  Mr. 
Jack  Keith,"  she  burst  forth,  rising  to  her  feet  indig- 
nantly. "  You  are  here  trying  to  prejudice  me  against 
Mr.  Hawley.    He  Is  your  enemy,  and  you  have  come 


2o6  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

to  me  stabbing  him  in  the  back  for  revenge.  That  is 
your  interest.  Well,  I  am  going  to  see  the  man,  and 
consider  what  he  has  to  say.  I  don't  care  half  so  much 
about  the  money  as  I  do  to  find  out  who  I  am.  If  he 
can  throw  any  light  on  my  early  life,  on  my  parentage, 
I  shall  be  the  happiest  woman  in  the  world.  I  am  sorry 
I  told  you  anything  —  but  I  am  going  to  see  him  just 
the  same.  Perhaps  he  might  tell  me  something  about 
you." 

They  were  both  standing,  the  woman's  eyes  flashing 
angrily,  defiantly,  her  hands  clinched.  Keith,  realiz- 
ing the  false  position  into  which  he  had  drifted,  hesi- 
tated to  answer.  He  meant  to  tell  her  the  whole  story, 
and  urge  her  to  cooperate  with  him  in  learning  the 
gambler's  purpose.  The  woman  impressed  him  as  hon- 
est at  heart,  in  spite  of  her  life  and  environment;  she 
was  not  one  whom  a  swindler  could  easily  dupe  into  be- 
coming a  tool. 

"  Miss  Maclaire,"  he  began,  determined  on  his 
course,  "  listen  to  me  for  just  a  moment.     I  am  — " 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  door.  The  eyes  of  both 
turned  that  way,  and  then  Keith  backed  slowly  into  the 
darkened  corner  beyond  the  window,  his  right  hand 
thrust  into  the  pocket  of  his  coat.  Miss  Maclaire  ob- 
served the  movement,  her  lips  smiling,  a  red  flush  on 
either  cheek.     Then  she  stepped  across  the  room,  and 


AN  INTERRUPTED  INTERVIEW      207 

opened  the  door.  Framed  against  the  black  back- 
ground of  the  hall,  his  dark,  rather  handsome  face 
clearly  revealed  as  he  fronted  the  window,  his  black, 
audacious  eyes  fixed  appreciatingly  upon  the  lady,  stood 
"  Black  Bart "  Hawley.  He  saw  no  one  but  her, 
realized  no  other  presence,  had  no  thought  except  to 
make  a  good  impression.  He  was  facing  a  beautiful 
woman,  whom  he  sought  to  use,  and  he  bowed  low,  hat 
in  hand. 

"  Miss  Maclaire,"  he  said,  pleasantly,  **  I  trust  you 
will  pardon  all  that  has  occurred  between  us,  and  per- 
mit me  to  explain." 

"I  —  I  do  not  understand,"  she  replied,  puzzled 
by  these  unexpected  words.  "  There  has  nothing  oc- 
curred between  us,  I  am  sure,  which  requires  explana- 
tion.    Have  we  met  before?" 

The  man  smiled.  Seeing  the  woman's  face  in  the 
shadows  he  was  still  convinced  she  was  the  same 
he  had  last  parted  with  on  the  Salt  Fork.  However, 
if  she  preferred  to  ignore  all  that,  and  begin  their  re- 
lations anew,  it  was  greatly  to  his  liking.  It  gave  him 
insight  into  her  character,  and  fresh  confidence  that  he 
could  gain  her  assistance.  Anyhow,  he  was  ready 
enough  to  play  her  game. 

"  Let  us  assume  not,"  just  the  slightest  trace  of 
mockery  in  the  tone,  "  and  begin  anew.     At  least,  you 


208  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

will  confess  the  receipt  of  my  letters  —  I  am  Bartlett 
Hawley." 

She  cast  a  half-frightened  glance  toward  Keith,  and 
the  man,  following  the  direction  of  her  eyes,  perceived 
the  presence  of  the  other.  His  right  leg  went  back- 
ward, his  hand  dropping  to  the  belt,  his  form  stiffening 
erect.  Keith's  voice,  low  but  clear  in  the  silence, 
seemed  to  cut  the  air. 

"  Not  a  motion,  Hawley !     I  have  you  covered." 

"  Oh,  gentlemen,  please  don't  1  " 

"  Have  no  fear,  Miss  Maclaire;  this  man  and  I  will 
settle  our  differences  elsewhere,  and  not  in  your  pres- 
ence." He  stepped  forth  into  the  middle  of  the  room, 
revolver  drawn,  but  held  low  at  the  hip,  his  watchful 
eyes  never  deserting  the  gambler's  face. 

"  Back  up  against  the  wall,  Hawley,"  he  commanded. 
"  I  hardly  need  to  tell  you  how  I  shoot,  for  we,  at  least, 
have  met  before.  Now,  I  'm  going  out,  and  leave  you 
to  your  interview  with  Miss  Maclaire,  and  I  wish  you 
happiness  and  success." 

He  moved  across  to  the  opening,  keeping  his  face 
toward  his  adversary;  then  backed  out  slowly,  closed  the 
door  with  a  snap,  and  sprang  aside  to  avoid  any  pos- 
sibility of  a  bullet  crashing  after  him.  No  sound  of 
movement  from  within  reached  his  ears,  however,  and 
he  walked  silently  to  the  head  of  the  stairs. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

AN   UNEXPECTED  MEETING 

KEITH  paused  at  the  landing,  looking  down  Into 
the  deserted  office,  almost  tempted  to  return  and 
force  Hawley  into  a  confession  of  his  purpose.  It  was 
easy  for  him  to  conceive  what  would  be  the  final  result 
of  this  Interview  between  the  artistic  gambler  and  Miss 
Maclalre.  In  spite  of  the  vague  suspicion  of  evil  which 
the  plainsman  had  implanted  within  the  woman's  mind, 
the  other  possessed  the  advantage,  and  would  certainly 
Improve  It.  All  conditions  were  decidedly  in  his  favor. 
He  merely  needed  to  convince  the  girl  that  she  was  actu- 
ally the  party  sought,  and  she  would  go  forward,  play- 
ing the  game  he  desired,  believing  herself  right,  totally 
unconscious  of  any  fraud.  The  very  simplicity  of  it 
rendered  the  plot  the  more  dangerous,  the  more  difficult 
to  expose.  Hawley  had  surely  been  favored  by  fortune 
In  discovering  this  singer  who  chanced  to  resemble 
Hope  so  remarkably,  and  who,  at  the  same  time,  was 
In  such  ignorance  as  to  her  own  parentage.  She  would 
be  ready  to  grasp  at  a  straw,  and,  once  persuaded 
14  209 


2IO  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

as  to  her  identity  and  legal  rights,  could  henceforth  be 
trusted  implicitly  as  an  ally. 

Realizing  all  this,  and  comprehending  also  how  easily 
Hawley  would  win  her  confidence  and  overcome  his 
warning  by  denouncing  him  as  a  fugitive  from  justice 
charged  with  murder,  the  temptation  to  return  and  fight 
It  out  then  and  there  became  almost  overpowering. 
He  had  no  fear  of  Hawley;  indeed,  physical  fear  had 
scarcely  a  place  In  his  composition,  but  he  was  not 
as  yet  sufiiclently  fortified  with  facts  for  the  seeking  of 
such  an  encounter.  He  could  merely  guess  at  the 
truth,  unable  to  produce  any  proof  with  which  to  meet 
the  gambler's  certain   denial. 

A  man  came  In  through  the  office,  and  began  climb- 
ing the  stairs.  He  was  almost  at  the  landing  before 
Keith  recognized  him  or  the  other  glanced  up. 

"Ah  —  seen  her,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,"  returned  Keith,  not  thinking  It  worth  while 
to  mention  the  lady's  denial  of  having  sent  for  him. 
"  I  have  just  come  from  there." 

"  Hum  —  thought  you  'd  be  through  by  this  time 
—  fine  looking  girl,  ain't  she?  —  believe  I'll  run  in 
and  chat  with  her  myself." 

"  I  would  advise  you  to  select  some  other  time, 
Doctor,"  said  the  younger,  drily,  "  as  the  lady  has  a 
visitor  at  present." 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING         211 

"A  visitor?"  his  face  rosy,  his  shrewd  eyes  darken- 
ing.     "  Ah,  indeed !     Of  the  male  sex?  " 

"  I  judge  so  —  '  Black  Bart '  Hawley." 

"  Good  Lord!  "  so  startled  his  voice  broke.  "  Did 
he  see  you?  " 

"  Rather;  I  backed  him  up  against  the  wall  with 
a  gun  while  I  made  my  adieu." 

"  But  what  brought  him  there?  Are  they  ac- 
quainted? " 

"  Don't  ask  conundrums,  Doctor.  He  may  be  your 
rival  with  the  fair  lady  for  all  I  know.  If  he  is,  my 
sympathies  are  all  with  you.  Only  I  would  n't  try  to 
see  Miss  Christie  just  now;  I  'd  wait  for  a  clearer  field. 
Hawley  is  probably  not  in  the  best  of  humor." 

Fairbain  stared  into  the  face  of  the  speaker,  uncertain 
whether  or  not  he  was  being  laughed  at. 

"  Reckon  you  're  right,"  he  acknowledged  at  last. 
"Tired,  anyhow  —  been  out  all  night  —  thought  I'd 
like  to  see  her  again,  though  —  finest  looking  woman 
I  've  met  since  I  came  West  —  remarkable  eyes  —  well, 
I  '11  go  along  to  bed  —  see  you  again  to-morrow.  Jack." 

Keith  watched  the  sturdy  figure  stomp  heavily  down 
the  hall-way,  loose  boards  creaking  under  his  positive 
tread,  and  smiled  to  himself  at  the  thought  that  he 
might  have,  indeed,  become  truly  interested  In  the  music 
hall  singer.     Somehow,  the  doctor  did  not  harmonize 


212  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

with  the  conception  of  love,  or  fit  graciously  into  the 
picture.  Still,  stranger  matings  had  occurred,  and 
Cupid  does  not  ask  permission  before  he  plays  pranks 
with  hearts.  Keith  turned  again  toward  the  stairs, 
only  to  observe  a  woman  slowly  cross  the  office  and 
commence  the  ascent.  She  was  in  the  shadow,  her  face 
even  more  deeply  shaded  by  her  hat,  yet  he  stared  at 
her  in  amazement  —  surely,  it  was  Miss  Maclaire! 
Yet  how  could  it  be?  He  had  left  that  person  scarcely 
five  minutes  before  in  "  26,"  and  this  stairway  was 
the  only  exit.     His  hand  grasped  the   rail,   his  heart 

throbbing  strangely,  as  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  crossed 
his  brain.  Could  this  be  Hope?  Could  it  be  that  she 
was  here  also?  As  her  foot  touched  the  landing,  she 
saw  him,  her  eyes  lighting  up  suddenly  in  recognition,  a 

wave  of  color  flooding  her  cheeks. 

"  Why,  Captain  Keith,"  she  exclaimed,  extending  her 

gloved  hand  frankly,   "  you  have  been  to   my  room, 

and  were  going  away.     I  am  so  glad  I  came  in  time." 
"  I  hardly  thought  to  meet  you,"  he  replied,  retaining 

her    fingers    in    his    grasp.     "  When    did    you    reach 

Sheridan?  " 

"  Only  last  night.       I  had  no  Idea  you  were  here, 

until  Doctor  Fairbain  chanced  to  mention  your  name. 

Then  I  at  once  begged  him  to  tell  you  how  exceedingly 

anxious  I  was  to  see  you.     You  see,  I  was  sure  you 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING         213 

would  come  if  you  only  knew.  I  really  thought  you 
would  be  here  this  morning,  and  remained  in  my  room 
waiting,  but  there  were  some  things  I  actually  had  to 
have.  I  was  n't  out  ten  minutes,  so  you  must  n't  think 
I  sent  you  a  message  and  then  forgot." 

The  nature  of  the  mistake  was  becoming  apparent, 
and  Keith's  gray  eyes  smiled  as  they  looked  into  the 
depths  of  the  brown. 

"  Your  message  had  rather  an  amusing  result,"  he 
said,  "  as  the  doctor  informed  me  that  Miss  Christie 
Maclaire  was  the  on.e  who  desired  my  presence." 

"  Miss  Maclaire!  "  her  voice  exhibiting  startled  sur- 
prise. "  Why  —  why  —  oh,  I  did  forget;  I  never  told 
him  differently.  Why,  it  was  most  ridiculous."  She 
laughed,  white  teeth  gleaming  between  the  parted  red 
lips,  yet  not  altogether  happily.  "  Let  me  explain. 
Captain  Keith,  for  really  I  have  not  been  masquerading. 
Doctor  Fairbain  and  I  arrived  upon  the  same  train 
last  evening.  He  is  such  a  funny  man,  but  was  very 
nice,  and  offered  to  escort  me  to  the  hotel.  I  remember 
now  that  although  he  introduced  himself,  I  never 
once  thought  to  mention  to  him  my  name.  The  town 
was  very  rough  last  night  —  the  company  had  paid  off 
the  graders  I  was  told  —  and  there  was  no  carriage,  so 
we  were  compelled  to  walk.  I  —  I  never  saw  such  a 
mob  of  drunken  men.     One  came  reeling  against  me, 


214  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

and  brushed  aside  my  veil  so  as  to  see  my  face.  The 
doctor  struck  him,  and  then  the  marshal  came  up  — 
you  know  him,  Bill  Hickock  —  and  the  impudent  fel- 
low actually  declared  he  knew  me,  that  I  was  Christie 
Maclaire.  I  tried  to  explain,  but  they  hurried  me  on 
through  the  crowd  to  the  hotel,  and  I  became  confused, 
and  forgot.  Do  you  suppose  they  registered  me  by  that 
name?  " 

"  Quite  likely;  at  least  Fairbain  still  believes  it  was 
the  fair  Christie  whom  he  so  gallantly  escorted  last 
night." 

"  How  provoking,"  her  foot  tapping  the  floor,  a  little 
wrinkle  between  her  eyes.  "  It  seems  as  though  I 
could  n't  escape  that  woman  —  does  she  —  does  she 
really  look  like  me?" 

"  At  a  little  distance,  yes,"  he  admitted,  "  her  form 
and  face  resemble  yours  very  closely,  but  her  hair  is 
darker,  her  eyes  have  a  different  expression,  and  she 
must  be  five  or  six  years  older." 

"  Do  —  do  you  know  her  well?  " 

"  No,  indeed;  I  have  seen  her  several  times  on  the 
stage,  but  never  met  her  until  a  few  moments  ago." 

"A  few  moments  ago  I  Do  you  mean  she  is 
here  in  this  hotel?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Hope,  and  that  was  what  made  the  mis- 
take in  names  so  laughable.     Fairbain  gave  me  your 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING         215 

message,  but  as  coming  from  Christie.  I  was,  of 
course,  greatly  surprised,  yet  responded.  The  lady 
very  promptly  denied  having  sent  for  me,  but  as  I  was 
anxious  to  interview  her  myself,  we  managed  to  drift 
into  conversation,  and  I  must  have  passed  a  half  hour 
there.  I  might  have  been  there  still,  but  for  an  inter- 
ruption." 

"  Oh,  Indeed!  "  with  rising  inflection. 

He  glanced  quickly  about,  reminded  of  the  situa- 
tion. 

"  Yes,  Hawley  came  in,  and  I  would  prefer  not  to 
meet  him  here,  or  have  him  discover  you  were  in 
Sheridan.  Could  we  not  go  to  your  room?  I  have 
much  to  tell  you." 

Her  questioning  eyes  left  his  face,  and  stared 
down  over  the  rail.  A  heavily  built  man,  with  red 
moustache,  leaned  against  the  clerk's  desk,  his  face 
toward  them. 

"Do  you  know  that  man?"  she  asked  quickly. 
"  He  followed  me  all  the  time  I  was  shopping.  I  — 
I  believe  he  is  the  same  one  who  jostled  me  in  the  crowd 
last  night." 

Keith  leaned  past  her  to  get  a  better  view,  but  the 
fellow  turned,  and  slouched  away. 

"  I  only  had  a  glimpse,  but  have  no  recollection  of 
ever  seeing  him  before.     You  heard  no  name?" 


2i6  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  '  Wild  Bill '  called  him  either  Scott,  or  Scotty  — 
if  this  is  the  same  man." 

Keith's  jaw  set,  the  fighting  light  burning  In  his  eyes. 
That  was  the  name  of  the  fellow  rooming  with  Wil- 
loughby,  the  one  who  seemed  to  be  Hawley's  special 
assistant.  Was  he  here  as  a  spy?  His  hands  clinched 
on  the  rail.  He  was  anxious  to  go  down  and  wring  the 
truth  out  of  him,  but  instead,  he  compelled  his  eyes  to 
smile,  turning  back  to  the  girl. 

"A  mere  accident  probably;  but  about  my  request? 
May  I  talk  with  you  a  few  moments  alone?  " 

She  bowed,  apparently  still  dissatisfied  regarding  his 
lengthy  conversation  with  Christie,  yet  permitted  him 
to  follow  down  the  hall.  She  held  open  the  door  of 
"  15,"  and  he  entered  silently,  not  wholly  understanding 
the  change  in  her  manner.  She  stood  before  the 
dresser,  drawing  off  her  gloves  and  removing  her  hat. 

"  Will  you  be  seated,  Captain;  the  arm-chair  by  the 
window  is  the  more  comfortable."  She  turned  toward 
him,  almost  shyly,  yet  with  womanly  curiosity  which 
would  not  be  stilled.  "  Was  your  call  upon  Miss 
Maclaire  very  interesting?  Did  you  admire  her  very 
much?" 

Keith's  eyes  lifted  to  her  face,  his  ears  quick  to  de- 
tect the  undertone  in  her  voice. 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING         217 

"Interesting?  yes,  for  I  was  seeking  after  informa- 
tion, and  met  with  some  success.  As  to  the  other  ques- 
tion, I  am  not  sure  whether  I  admire  the  lady  or  not. 
She  is  bright,  pretty,  and  companionable,  and  in  spite 
of  her  profession,  at  heart,  I  beheve,  a  good  woman. 
But  really.  Miss  Hope,  I  was  too  deeply  immersed 
in  my  purpose  to  give  her  personality  much  considera- 
tion.    Among  other  things  we  spoke  of  you." 

"Of  me?     Why?" 

"  I  told  her  something  of  our  adventures  together; 
of  how  both  Hawley  and  I  had  been  confused.  She 
was  anxious  to  learn  who  you  were,  but  unfortunately, 
I  have  never,  even  yet,  heard  your  name." 

"You  have  not?" 

"No;  I  left  you  at  Fort  Earned  believing  you 
Christie  Maclaire  —  supposing  it  your  stage  name,  of 
course  —  and  was  confirmed  in  this  belief  by  finding 
in  the  holster  of  the  saddle  you  had  been  riding  an 
envelope  bearing  that  address." 

"  I  remember;  it  contained  the  note  the  man  brought 
to  me  from  Hawley;  he  had  written  it  that  way."  She 
crossed  the  room,  sinking  down  into  a  chair  facing  him. 
"  And  you  have  actually  confused  me  with  Christie 
Maclaire  all  this  while?  Have  never  known  who  I 
was?" 


2i8  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  told  you  to  call  me  Hope;  that  is  my  name  — 
I  am  Hope  Waite." 

"Waite!  "  he  leaned  forward,  startled  by  the  pos- 
sibihty  — "  not  —  not  — " 

"  Yes,"  she  burst  in,  holding  out  her  hands,  clasping 
the  locket,  "  and  this  was  my  father's;  where  did  you 
get  it?" 

He  took  the  trinket  from  her,  turning  It  over  In 
his  fingers.  Little  by  little  the  threads  of  mystery  were 
being  unravelled,  yet,  even  now,  he  could  not  see  very 
far.  He  looked  up  from  the  locket  into  her  questioning 
face. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you?  No;  then  It  was  an  oversight. 
This  was  about  the  throat  of  one  of  the  men  I  buried 
at  Cimmaron  Crossing,  but  —  but,  Hope,  It  was  not 
your  father." 

"  I  know,"  her  voice  choking  slightly.  "  Mrs. 
Murphy  found  that  out;  that  Is  why  I  am  here.  I 
heard  my  father  came  to  Sheridan,  and  I  wanted  you 
to  help  me  find  him." 

He  was  thinking,  and  did  not  answer  at  once,  and 
she  went  on  in  some  alarm. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  him.  Captain  Keith? 
Where  Is  he?  Why  is  he  here?  Don't  be  afraid  to 
tell  me." 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING         219 

He  pressed  the  locket  back  into  her  hand,  retaining 
the  latter,  unresisted,  within  his  own. 

"  I  have  not  seen  your  father,  Hope,  but  he  was 
certainly  here  a  few  days  ago,  for  Fairbain  met  him. 
They  were  together  in  the  army.  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  all  I  know  —  it  seems  to  be  a  tangled  web,  but  the 
ends  must  be  somewhere,  although,  I  confess,  I  am  all 
at  sea." 

He  told  it  slowly  and  simply,  bringing  forth  his 
earlier  suspicion,  and  how  he  had  stumbled  upon  facts 
apparently  confirming  them.  He  related  her  father's 
robbery,  his  loss  of  valuable  papers,  and  the  conver- 
sation between  Hawley  and  Scott  which  led  to  the 
suspicion  that  these  same  papers  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  the  former,  and  were  the  basis  of  his  plot. 
Hope  listened,  breathless  with  interest,  her  widely 
opened  eyes  filled  with  wonder.  As  he  concluded  speak- 
ing she  burst  forth: 

"  But  I  don't  understand  in  the  least,  Captain  Keith. 
Why  did  this  man  Hawley  send  me  to  the  Salt  Fork?  " 

"  He  thought  he  was  dealing  with  Christie  Maclaire. 
He  had  some  reason  for  getting  her  away;  getting  her 
where  he  could  exercise  influence  over  her." 

"  Yes  —  yes ;  but  who  is  she  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  makes  the  matter  so  hard  to  unravel. 
She  does  n't  even  know  herself.     Hawley  is  going  to 


220  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

take  advantage  of  her  ignorance  in  this  respect,  and  con- 
vince her  that  she  is  the  person  he  wishes  her  to  repre- 
sent—  but  who  is  the  person?  If  we  knew  that  we 
might  block  the  game." 

Both  sat  silent,  striving  to  figure  out  some  reasonable 
explanation. 

"  Do  you  know  of  any  special  papers  your  father  car- 
ried? "  he  asked. 

"No;  none  outside  his  business  agreements." 

"  Has  anyone  ever  disappeared  connected  with  your 
family?     Did  you  have  an  older  sister?" 

"  Fred  and  I  were  the  only  children.  Why  should 
you  ask  that  question?  " 

"  Because  something  of  that  nature  would  seem  to 
be  the  only  rational  explanation.  Your  brother  must 
have  told  Hawley  something  —  some  family  secret  — 
which  he  felt  could  be  utilized  to  his  own  advantage. 
Then  he  saw  your  picture,  and  was  immediately  re- 
minded of  the  remarkable  resemblance  between  you  and 
Christie  Maclaire.  Evidently  this  discovery  fitted  into 
his  plan,  and  made  it  possible  for  him  to  proceed.  He 
has  been  trying  ever  since  to  get  an  interview  with  the 
woman,  to  sound  her,  and  find  out  what  he  can  do  with 
her.  He  has  written  letters,  sufficiently  explicit  to  make 
It  clear  his  scheme  is  based  upon  a  will  drawn,  as  he 
claims,  by  Christie's  grandfather.     No  doubt  by  this 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING         221 

time  he  has  fully  convinced  the  girl  that  she  is  the  right- 
ful heiress  to  property  —  as  he  stated  to  Scott  — 
valued  at  over  a  million  dollars.  That 's  a  stake  worth 
fighting  for,  and  these  two  will  make  a  hard  combina- 
tion. He  's  got  the  papers,  or  claims  to  have,  and  they 
must  be  the  ones  stolen  from  your  father.  I  have  been 
trusting  you  might  know  something  in  your  family  his- 
tory which  would  make  it  all  plain." 

"  But  I  do  not,"  decisively.  "  You  must  believe  me; 
not  so  much  as  a  hint  of  any  secret  has  ever  reached  me. 
There  are  only  the  four  of  us,  Father,  Mother,  Fred, 
and  I.  I  am  sure  there  can  be  no  secret;  nothing  which 
I  would  not  know.  Perhaps,  If  I  could  see  Miss 
Maclaire — " 

"  I  am  convinced  that  would  be  useless,"  he  inter- 
rupted, rising,  and  pacing  across  the  floor.  "  If 
Hawley  has  convinced  her  of  the  justice  of  the  claim, 
he  will  also  have  pledged  her  to  secrecy.  He  is  work- 
ing out  of  sight  like  a  mole,  for  he  knows  the  fraud, 
and  will  never  come  to  the  surface  until  everything 
is  in  readiness.  I  know  a  better  way;  I  '11  find  Fred, 
and  bring  him  here.  He  would  tell  you  whatever  it  was 
he  told  Hawley,  and  that  will  give  us  the  clue." 

He  picked  up  his  hat  from  the  table,  but  she  rose 
to  her  feet,  holding  forth  her  hands. 

"  I  cannot  thank  you  enough,   Captain  Keith,"  she 


222  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

exclaimed  frankly.  "  You  are  doing  so  much,  and  with 
no  personal  interest  — " 

"  Oh,  but  I  have." 

The  long  lashes  dropped  over  the  brown  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  That  I  have  a  personal  interest  —  in  you,  Hope." 

She  stood  silent,  her  bosom  rising  and  falling  to  rapid 
breathing. 

"  You  don't  mind  my  calling  you  Hope?  I  have  n't 
got  used  to  Miss  Waite  yet." 

Her  eyes  met  his  swiftly. 

"  Of  course,  not.  Such  ceremony  would  be  foolish 
after  all  you  have  done  for  me.  Do  —  do  you  call  her 
Christie?" 

He  laughed,  clasping  her  hands  closer. 

"  I  assure  you  no  —  she  is  strictly  Miss  Maclaire, 
and,"  solemnly,  "  shall  be  to  the  end  of  the  chapter." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  did  n't  care,  only  that  was  what  you 
called  her  when  you  were  telling  me  what  she  said.  Are 
you  going?  " 

"Yes,  to  find  Fred;  the  sooner  we  can  get  this 
straightened  out,  the  better." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A   MISTAKE    IN   ASSASSINATION 

LET  his  future  be  what  it  might,  Jack  Keith  would 
never  again  forget  the  girl  who  held  the  door 
open  for  his  passage  with  one  hand,  her  other  clasped 
in  his.  Interested  before,  yet  forcing  himself  into  in- 
difference now  that  he  knew  who  she  really  was,  the 
man  made  full  surrender.  It  was  a  struggle  that  kept 
him  from  clasping  the  slender  figure  in  his  arms,  and 
pouring  forth  the  words  of  tenderness  which  he  sternly 
choked  back.  This  was  neither  the  time,  nor  the  place, 
yet  his  eyes  must  have  spoken,  for  Hope's  glance  fell, 
and  her  cheeks  grew  crimson. 

"  I  do  not  need  to  pledge  you  to  return  this  time, 
do  I?"  she  questioned,  her  voice  trembling. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  nor  any  time  again." 

The  hall  was  deserted,  but  a  few  men  loitered  in  the 
office.  Keith  recognized  none  of  the  faces,  and  did 
not  stop  to  make  any  inquiries  of  the  clerk.  It  was 
growing  dark,  the  lights  already  burning,  and  from  the 
plashing  of  drops  on  the  window,  it  must  be  raining 
outside.     Hawley  would  surely  have  ended  his  call  upon 

223 


224  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

Miss  Maclaire  long  before  this,  and  left  the  hotel. 
However  interesting  his  communication  might  have 
proven,  she  must  fill  her  evening  engagement  at  the 
Trocadero,  and  would  require  time  for  supper  and  rest. 
As  to  the  result  of  that  interview  there  could  be  little 
doubt.  Providing  the  gambler  possessed  the  proper 
papers  he  would  have  small  difficulty  in  convincing  the 
girl  that  she  was  indeed  the  one  sought.  Keith  had 
probed  sufficiently  into  her  mind  to  feel  assured  that  her 
inclination  was  to  side  with  Hawley.  Under  all  the 
circumstances  this  was  natural  enough,  and  he  did  not 
blame  her. 

He  glanced  into  the  bar-room  as  he  passed,  not  in 
any  anticipation,  but  merely  from  the  vigilance  which 
becomes  second  nature  upon  the  frontier.  Hawley 
stood  leaning  against  the  bar,  where  he  could  see  any- 
one passing  through  the  hall.  The  eyes  of  the  two 
men  met,  but  the  gambler  never  moved,  never  changed 
his  attitude,  although  Keith  noted  that  his  right  hand 
was  hidden  beneath  the  skirts  of  his  long  coat.  The 
plainsman  drew  back,  facing  his  enemy,  until  he  reached 
the  outer  door.  There  was  a  sneer  on  Hawley's  dark 
sinister  face  like  an  invitation,  but  a  memory  of  the 
girl  he  had  just  left,  and  her  dependence  upon  him, 
caused  Keith  to  avoid  an  encounter.  He  would  fight 
this  affair  out  in  a  different  way.     As  the  door  opened 


A  MISTAKE  IN  ASSASSINATION       225 

and  he  slipped  forth  into  the  gloom,  he  brushed  against 
a  man  apparently  just  entering.  The  gleam  of  light 
fell  for  an  instant  upon  the  face  of  the  other  —  it  was 
Scotty  with  the  red  moustache. 

They  had  been  watching  for  him  then  —  what  for? 
Hawley  on  the  inside,  and  this  man  Scott  without,  were 
waiting  to  determine  when  he  left  the  hotel;  would 
probably  dog  his  footsteps  to  discover  where  he  went. 
Keith  loosened  his  revolver,  so  as  to  be  assured  he 
could  draw  quickly,  and  slipped  back  into  the  shadow 
of  the  steps,  his  eyes  on  the  door  of  the  hotel.  There 
was  a  cold,  drizzly  rain  falling,  the  streets  almost  de- 
serted, appearing  sodden  and  miserable  where  the 
lights  shone  forth  through  saloon  windows.  One  or 
two  men,  seeking  supper,  coat  collars  turned  up  and 
hats  drawn  low  over  their  eyes,  climbed  the  rickety 
steps  and  went  In,  but  no  one  came  out.  Perhaps  he 
was  mistaken  as  to  the  purpose  of  those  fellows;  they 
may  have  desired  merely  to  know  when  he  left,  or 
Scott's  return  just  at  that  moment  might  have  been  an 
accident.  To  be  sure,  the  hotel  possessed  a  back  exit, 
but  he  could  not  cover  both  ends  of  the  building,  and 
must  take  his  chances.  It  was  too  wet  and  disagreeable 
to  remain  crouched  there,  now  that  It  was  evident  there 
was  no  Intention  of  following  him.  With  hand  on  the 
butt  of  his  gun,  suspicious  and  watchful,  yet  with 
IS 


226  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

scarcely  a  faster  beat  to  his  heart,  Keith  straightened 
up,  and  began  splashing  his  way  through  the  mud 
down  the  street.  He  knew  where  Willoughby  would 
be  most  likely  found  at  this  hour  —  with  cronies  at 
the  "  Tenderfoot " —  and  he  meant  to  discover  the 
boy,  and  make  him  confess  to  Hope  the  truth. 
Matters  had  now  reached  a  point  where  longer  delay 
was  dangerous. 

Sheridan  was  seemingly  dead,  the  long  street  silent, 
gloomy,  black,  except  for  those  streams  of  saloon  light 
shining  across  pools  of  water.  He  stumbled  over  the 
irregular  ground,  occasionally  striking  patches  of 
wooden  sidewalk  or  a  strip  of  cinders.  Here  and  there 
a  tent  flapped  in  the  wind,  which  drove  the  drizzle  into 
his  face;  somewhere  ahead  a  swinging  sign  moaned  as  if 
in  agony.  A  few  wanderers  ploughed  through  the  muck, 
dim  uncertain  shapes  appearing  and  vanishing  in  the 
gloom.  He  had  gone  a  block  and  over,  the  struggle 
against  the  elements  leaving  him  forgetful  of  all  else, 
when  a  man  reeled  out  of  some  dimly  lit  shack  to  his 
right,  and  staggered  drunkenly  forward  a  few  feet  in 
advance.  He  could  barely  distinguish  the  fellow's  out- 
lines, giving  little  thought  to  the  occurrence,  for  the 
way  was  unusually  black  along  there,  the  saloon  oppo- 
site having  shades  drawn.  Suddenly  a  flash  of  red 
fire  spurted  into  the  night,  with  a  sharp  report.     It  was 


A  MISTAKE  IN  ASSASSINATION      227 

so  close  at  hand  it  blinded  him,  and  he  flung  up  one 
arm  over  his  eyes,  and  yet,  in  that  single  Instant,  he 
perceived  the  whole  picture  as  revealed  by  the  red  flame. 
He  saw  the  man  in  front  go  down  in  a  heap,  the  pro- 
jection of  the  building  from  behind  which  the  shot 
came,  the  end  of  a  wagon  sticking  forth  into  the  street 
which  had  concealed  the  assassin.  The  blinding  flash, 
the  shock  of  that  sudden  discharge,  for  a  moment 
held  him  motionless;  then  he  leaped  forward,  revolver 
in  hand,  sprang  around  the  end  of  the  wagon,  and 
rushed  down  the  dark  alley  between  two  buildings.  He 
could  see  nothing,  but  someone  was  running  recklessly 
ahead  of  him,  and  he  fired  in  the  direction  of  the  sound, 
the  leaping  spurt  of  flame  yielding  a  dim  outline  of 
the  fugitive.  Three  times  he  pressed  the  trigger;  then 
there  was  nothing  to  shoot  at  —  the  fellow  had  faded 
away  into  the  black  void  of  prairie.  Keith  stood  there 
bafiled,  staring  about  into  the  gloom,  the  smoking  re- 
volver in  his  hand.  The  sound  of  men's  voices  behind 
was  all  that  reached  him,  and  feeling  the  uselessness 
of  further  pursuit,  he  retraced  his  way  back  through  the 
narrow  passage. 

A  group  was  gathered  about  the  body  in  the  rain, 
a  single  lantern  glimmering.  Two  or  three  men  had 
started  down  the  passageway,  and  Keith  met  them, 
revolvers  drawn  and  suspicious. 


228  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"Who  are  you?"  snapped  one  sharply.  "Were 
you  doing  all  that  shooting  yonder?  " 

Keith  recognized  the  voice,  thankful  that  he  did  so. 

"  I  fired  at  the  fellow,  but  he  got  away  onto  the 
prairie.  I  reckon  you  couldn't  have  done  any  better. 
Bill." 

"  Jack  Keith!  "  and  Hickock's  voice  had  a  new  tone, 
his  hand  dropping  on  the  other's  shoulder.  "  Never 
was  gladder  to  meet  a  fellow  in  my  life.  Boys,  this 
is  an  old  deputy  of  mine  down  in  Dodge.  When  he 
gives  up  chasin'  a  murderer  there  Is  n't  much  use  our 
tryin'.  Let 's  go  back,  and  find  out  how  bad  the  fellow 
is  hurt.  While  we  're  feelin'  our  way,  Jack,  you  might 
tell  us  what  you  know  about  this  affair." 

"  It  was  just  the  flash  of  a  gun,  and  the  man 
dropped,"  Keith  explained,  briefly.  "  I  was  ten  or  a 
dozen  feet  behind,  and  the  fellow  fired  from  under  the 
wagon  there.  He  must  have  been  laymg  for  some  one 
—  I  reckon,  maybe,  it  was  me." 

"  You?  Then  it 's  likely  you  have  some  notion  who 
he  was?  " 

"  Well,  if  I  have,  Bill,"  and  Keith's  lips  were  set 
tight,  "  I  'm  not  liable  to  tell  you.  If  it 's  the  lad  I 
think  likely,  I  '11  attend  to  the  case  myself.  You  un- 
derstand—  this  is  my  personal  affair." 


A  MISTAKE  IN  ASSASSINATION      229 

Hickock  nodded,  his  hand  again  pressing  the  other's 
shoulder. 

"  Sure,  Jack,  if  you  feel  that  way.  There  's  enough 
doing  here  in  Sheridan  to  keep  a  marshal  reasonably 
busy,  without  dippin'  into  private  matters.  I  rather 
reckon  you  can  take  care  of  yourself,  but  if  you  need  me, 
old  boy,  I  'm  always  right  here  on  the  job.  You  know 
;hat." 

"  I  do.  Bill,  and  appreciate  it." 

The  group  about  the  motionless  body  fell  away,  and 
made  room  for  the  marshal,  the  last  man  to  rise  saying 
soberly: 

"  He  's  dead  all  right,  Hickock.  I  guess  he  never 
knew  what  hit  him.  Good  shootin',  too,  dark  as  it  is 
here." 

"  Had  the  range  fixed,  likely,"  returned  the  marshal. 
"  That 's  what  makes  it  look  like  it  was  arranged  for." 

He  bent  down,  striving  to  distinguish  the  dead  man's 
features  turned  up  to  the  drizzle,  but  the  night  re- 
vealed only  the  faintest  outline. 

"Anybody  know  him?"  There  was  no  response, 
only  a  shuffling  of  feet  in  the  mud.  "  Here  you  man 
with  the  lantern,  hold  it  over  where  I  can  see.  There, 
that  is  better.  Now,  you  fellows  take  a  look,  and  see  if 
some  of  you  can't  name  the  poor  devil." 


230  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

They  glanced  down,  one  after  the  other,  over  Bill's 
shoulder,  shading  their  eyes  from  the  rain  so  as  to 
see  clearer.  The  light  of  the  flickering  lantern 
streamed  full  on  the  ghastly  face,  but  each  man  shook 
his  head,  and  passed  on.  Keith  hung  back,  hoping 
some  one  would  identify  the  body,  and  not  make  it  neces- 
sary for  him  to  take  part  in  the  grewsome  task.  It  was 
not  likely  to  be  any  one  he  knew,  and  besides,  he  felt 
the  man  had  died  in  his  stead,  and  he  dreaded  to  look 
upon  the  stricken  face.  When  the  last  of  the  group 
had  drifted  back  out  of  the  radius  of  light,  Hickock 
looked  up,  and  saw  him. 

"  Here,  Jack,"  he  said,  gravely,  "you  better  try  — 
you  might  know  him." 

Keith  bent  over,  and  looked  down.  As  he  did  so  his 
heart  seemed  to  rise  choking  into  his  throat,  and  a 
blur  obscured  his  sight.  He  swept  a  hand  over  his  eyes 
and  dropped  on  his  knees  into  the  mud  beside  the  body, 
staring  speechless  into  the  white  face,  the  sightless  eyes. 
Hickock  watching  him  closely,  and  gripped  his  arm. 

"  What  is  it?     Do  you  know  him?  " 

"My  God,  yes;  Fred  Willoughbyl" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A   REAPPEARANCE    OF    THE    GENERAL 

KEITH  did  not  inform  Hope  of  her  brother's 
death  until  the  following  morning,  but  had  the 
body  properly  prepared  for  burial,  and  devoted  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night  to  searching  for  General  Waite, 
and,  incidentally,  for  both  Hawley  and  Scott.  Both 
Hickock  and  Falrbain  assisted  in  this  effort  to  learn 
the  whereabouts  of  the  dead  boy's  father,  but  without 
the  slightest  result,  nor  did  Keith's  investigations  re- 
veal the  gambler  at  any  of  his  accustomed  resorts, 
while  Scott  had  apparently  made  a  complete  get-away. 
These  disappearances  merely  served  to  convince  him 
as  to  the  truth  of  his  first  suspicions;  Scott  might  have 
departed  for  good,  but  Hawley  would  certainly  reap- 
pear just  so  soon  as  assured  his  name  had  not  been 
mentioned  In  connection  with  the  tragedy.  To  Neb 
alone  did  the  plainsman  candidly  confide  his  belief  in 
the  guilt  of  these  two,  and  when  other  duties  called 
him  elsewhere,  he  left  the  negro  scouring  the  town 
for  any  possible  reappearance  of  either. 

Heavy-eyed  from  lack  of  sleep,  heavy-hearted  with 
231 


232  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

his  message,  yet  fully  decided  as  to  what  advice  he 
should  offer,  Keith  returned  to  the  hotel,  and  requested 
an  interview  with  Hope.  Although  still  comparatively 
early,  some  premonition  of  evil  had  awakened  the  girl, 
and  in  a  very  few  moments  she  was  prepared  to  receive 
her  visitor.  A  questioning  glance  into  his  face  was  suf- 
ficient to  assure  her  of  unpleasant  news,  but,  with  one 
quick  breath,  she  grasped  his  arm  as  though  his  very 
presence  afforded  her  strength. 

"  How  tired  you  look !  Something  has  occurred  to 
keep  you  out  all  night  —  and  —  and  I  know  you  have 
brought  me  bad  news.  Don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me;  I 
can  bear  anything  better  than  suspense.  Is  it  about 
father?" 

"  No,  Hope,"  and  he  took  her  hand,  and  led  her 
to  a  chair.  Bending  above  her  he  gave  her  the  whole 
story  of  the  night,  and  she  scarcely  Interrupted  with  a 
question,  sitting  there  dry-eyed,  with  only  an  occasional 
sob  shaking  her  slender  form.  As  he  ended,  she  looked 
up  Into  his  face,  and  now  he  could  see  a  mist  of  unshed 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  What  shall  I  do,  Captain  Keith?  I  am  all  alone 
with  this,  except  for  you." 

"  I  have  considered  that,  Hope,"  he  answered, 
gravely,  "  and  It  seems  to  me  your  present  duty  is  more 
to  the  hving  than  the  dead.     You  should  remain  here 


A  REAPPEARANCE  233 

until  we  learn  something  definite  regarding  your  father, 
and  discover  the  truth  of  this  conspiracy  formed  against 
him.  If  Fred  could  know  the  trouble  his  chance  words 
have  caused,  he  would  wish  you  to  do  this.  With  him 
gone,  we  are  going  to  find  the  unravelling  harder  than 
ever.  It  is  my  judgment,  Hope,  your  brother  should 
be  buried  here." 

She  shuddered,  her  hands  pressed  to  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  on  that  horrible  '  Boots  Hill '  ?  " 

"  Only  temporarily,  little  girl,"  his  voice  full  of 
deepest  sympathy.  "  In  a  few  weeks,  perhaps,  it  could 
be  removed  East." 

She  was  silent  for  what  seemed  to  him  a  long 
while;  then  she  looked  up  into  his  face,  clinging  to  his 
arm. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  that  will  be  best." 

That  same  afternoon,  the  sun  low  In  the  west,  they 
placed  the  dead  boy  in  his  shallow  grave  on  "  Boots 
Hill."  It  was  a  strange  funeral,  in  a  strange  environ- 
ment —  all  about  the  barren,  deserted  plains ;  far  away 
to  the  east  and  west,  the  darker  line  marking  the  rail- 
road grade,  and  just  below,  nestled  close  in  against  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  the  squalid  town  of  tents  and  shacks. 
There  were  not  many  to  stand  beside  the  open  grave, 
for  few  in  Sheridan  knew  the  lad,  and  funerals  were 
not     uncommon  —  some      cronies,      half-drunk     and 


234  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

maudlin,  awed  somewhat  by  the  presence  of  the 
marshal,  Doctor  Fairbain,  Keith,  and  Hope.  That 
was  all  excepting  the  post  chaplain  from  Fort  Hays, 
who,  inspired  by  a  glimpse  of  the  girl's  unveiled  face, 
spoke  simple  words  of  comfort.  It  was  all  over  with 
quickly,  and  with  the  red  sun  still  lingering  on  the 
horizon,  the  little  party  slowly  wended  their  way 
back,  down  the  steep  trail  into  the  one  long  street  of 
Sheridan. 

At  the  hotel  Neb  was  waiting,  the  whites  of  his  eyes 
shining  with  excitement,  his  pantomime  indicating  impor- 
tant news.  As  soon  as  he  could  leave  Hope,  Keith  hur- 
ried down  to  interview  his  dusky  satellite,  who  appeared 
about  to  burst  with  restrained  Information.  As  soon 
as  uncorked  that  individual  began  to  flow  volubly : 

"  I  sho'  done  seed  'em,  Massa  Jack;  I  done  seed 
'em  both." 

"Both?     Both  who?" 

"  Massa  Waite,  sah,  an'  dat  black  debble  dat  we 
was  huntin'  fo'.  It  was  a  mos'  surprisin'  circumstance, 
sah  —  a  mos'  surprisin'  circumstance." 

"Well,  go  on;  where  did  you  see  them?  Do  you 
mean  they  were  together?  " 

The  negro  took  a  long  breath,  evidently  overcome 
by  the  Importance  of  his  message,  and  unable  to  conjure 
up  words  wholly  satisfactory  to  his  ideas. 


His  was  figure  and  face  to  be  noted  anywhere 


A  REAPPEARANCE  235 

"  It  sho'  am  de  strangest  t'ing,  Massa  Jack,  ebber 
I  prognosticated.  I  was  jest  comin'  roun'  de  corner 
ob  Sheeny  Joe's  shebang,  back  dar  by  de  blacksmith 
shop,  when  —  de  Lawd  save  me !  —  yere  come  ol' 
Massa  Waite,  a  ridin'  'long  on  a  cream  colo'd  pinto  just 
as  much  alibe  as  ebber  he  was.  Yas,  sah;  he's  whiskers 
was  blowin'  round,  an'  I  could  eben  yeah  him  cussin' 
de  boss,  when  he  done  shy  at  a  man  what  got  up  sud- 
den like  from  a  cart-wheel  he  was  settin'  on.  I  done 
took  one  look  at  dat  secon'  fellar,  and  seed  it  was  dat 
black  debble  from  down  Carson  way.  Den  I  ducked 
inter  de  blacksmith  shop  out  'er  sight.  I  sho'  did  n't 
want  Mister  Hawley  to  git  no  chance  at  dis  nigger  — 
I  sho'  didn't." 

"Did  they  speak  to  one  another?"  Keith  asked, 
anxiously.     "  Did  you  hear  what  was  said?  " 

"  Sho'  dey  talked,  Massa  Jack.  I  sorter  reckon  dey 
was  dar  for  dat  special  purpose.  Sutt'nly,  sah,  dey 
went  right  at  talkin'  like  dey  hed  som't'ing  on  dey  minds, 
or  Massa  Waite  was  a  sittin'  straight  up  on  de  boss,  an' 
dat  black  debble  was  a  standin'  dar  in  front  ob  him.  OV 
Massa  Waite  he  was  mad  from  de  first  jump  off,  an' 
I  could  heah  most  ebcryt'ing  he  said,  but  Mr.  Haw- 
ley he  grin  de  same  way  he  do  when  he  deal  faro,  an' 
speaks  kinder  low.  De  ol'  man  he  swear  fine  at  him,  he 
call  him  eberyt'ing  —  a  damn  liar,  a  damn  scoundrel  — 


236  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

but  Mr.  Hawley  he  jest  grin,  and  say  ober  de  same 
ting. 

"What  was  that,  Neb?" 

"  Som't'ing  'bout  a  gal,  Massa  Jack  —  an'  a  law  suit 
—  an'  how  de  ol'  man  better  settle  up  widout  no  fightin'. 
I  jest  did  n't  git  de  whole  ob  it,  he  talked  so  low  like." 

"  What  did  Waite  say?" 

"  Well,  mostly  he  jest  cussed.  He  sho'  told  dat 
black  debble  'bout  what  he  thought  ob  him,  but  he 
did  n't  nebber  once  call  him  Hawley  —  no,  sah,  not 
once;  he  done  call  him  Bartlett,  or  somet'ing  or  odder 
like  dat.  But  he  sutt'nly  read  dat  man's  pedigree  from 
way  back  to  de  time  ob  de  flood,  I  reck'n.  An'  he  done 
swore  he  'd  fight  for  whatebber  it  was,  papers  or  no 
papers.  Den  Hawley,  he  got  plumb  tired  ob  de  ol' 
man  swearin'  at  him,  an'  he  grabbed  a  picter  out  ob  he's 
pocket,  an'  says,  '  Damn  you ;  look  at  dat !  What  kind 
ob  a  fight  can  yo'  make  against  dat  face?'  De  ol' 
man  stared  at  it  a  while,  sorter  chokin'  up;  den  he  say 
softer  like:  '  It 's  Hope;  where  did  yo'  ebber  get  dat?  ' 
and  de  black  debble  he  laughed,  an'  shoved  de  picter 
back  into  he's  pocket.  '  Hope,  hell !  '  he  say,  '  it 's 
Phyllis,  an'  I  '11  put  her  before  any  jury  yo  're  mind  to 
get  —  oh,  I  've  got  yo'  nailed,  Waite,  dis  time.'  " 

"Was  that  all?" 

"  De  ol'  gin'ral  he  did  n't  seem  ter  know  what  ter 


A  REAPPEARANCE  237 

say;  he  done  set  dar  lookin'  off  ober  de  prairie  lilie  he 
was  clar  flumegasted.  He  sho'  did  look  like  dat  black 
debble  hed  hit  him  mighty  hard.  Den  he  says  slow  like, 
turnin'  his  hoss  'round:  '  Bartlett,  yo'  am  puttin'  up  a 
good  bluff,  but,  by  Gawd,  I  'm  goin'  ter  call  yo'.  Yo' 
don't  get  a  cent  ob  dat  money  'less  yo'  put  up  de 
proof.  I  '11  meet  yo'  whar  yo'  say,  but  ef  I  can  git 
hoi'  ob  some  papers  dat  's  missin'  I  '11  take  dat  grin 
off  yo'  face.'  De  odder  one  laughed,  an'  de  ol'  gin'ral 
started  fo'  ter  ride  away,  den  he  pull  up  he's  hoss,  an' 
look  back.  '  Yo'  sorter  herd  wid  dat  kind  ob  cattle, 
Bartlett,'  he  say,  sharp  like,  '  maybe  yo'  know  a  gam- 
bler roun'  yere  called  Hawley?  '  De  black  debble 
nebber  eben  lose  he's  grin.  '  Do  yo'  mean  Black  Bart 
Hawley?  '  '  Dat 's  the  man,  where  is  he?  '  '  Dealin' 
faro  fo'  Mike  Kenna  in  Topeka  a  week  ago  —  friend 
ob  yours?'  '  Dat 's  none  ob  yo'  damned  business,' 
snorted  de  ol'  gin'ral,  givin'  his  hoss  de  spur.  Sho', 
Massa  Jack,  he  nebber  knowed  he  was  talkin'  ter  dat 
same  Hawley,  an'  dat  black  debble  jest  laughed  as  he 
rode  off." 

"When  was  all  this.  Neb?" 

"  'Bout  de  time  yo'  all  went  up  on  de  hill,  I  reck'n. 
I  done  come  right  yere,  and  waited." 

Keith  walked  across  the  room,  selected  a  cigar,  and 
came  back,  his  mind  busy  with  the  problem.     Hawley 


238  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

had  in  some  manner,  then,  got  into  communication 
with  Waite,  and  was  threatening  him.  But  Waite  evi- 
dently knew  the  man  under  another  name  —  his  given 
name  —  and  the  gambler  had  sent  him  off  on  a  false 
trail.  The  lost  papers  apparently  contained  the  solu- 
tion to  all  this  mystery.  Waite  believed  Hawley  pos- 
sessed them,  but  did  not  suspect  that  Bartlett  and 
Hawley  were  the  same  person.  What  would  he  most 
naturally  do  now?  Seek  Hawley  in  Topeka  probably; 
seize  the  first  opportunity  of  getting  there.  Keith 
turned  impatiently  to  the  clerk. 

"Any  train  running  east?" 

*'  Well,  they  generally  start  one  out  every  day,"  with 
a  glance  toward  the  clock,  "  'long  'bout  this  time. 
Maybe  it 's  gone,  and  maybe  It  has  n't." 

It  was  already  nearly  dark  outside  as  the  two  men 
hastened  toward  the  depot.  They  arrived  there  barely 
in  time  to  see  the  red  lights  on  the  last  car  disappear. 
No  inquiries  made  of  those  lounging  about  brought  re- 
sults —  they  had  been  Interested  in  a  lot  of  drunken 
graders  loaded  on  the  flat  cars  by  force,  and  sent  out 
under  guard  —  and  not  one  could  tell  whether  any 
man  answering  Waite's  description  was  In  the  single 
passenger  coach.  Convinced,  however,  that  the  Gen- 
eral would  waste  no  time  in  prosecuting  his  search, 
Keith  believed  him  already  on  his  way  east,  and  after 


A  REAPPEARANCE  239 

dismissing  Neb,  with  instructions  to  watch  out  closely 
for  Hawley,  he  made  his  own  way  back  to  the  hotel. 

It  seemed  strange  enough  how  completely  he  was 
blocked  each  time,  just  as  he  thought  the  whole  baf- 
fling mystery  was  about  to  be  made  clear.  Hawley 
was  playing  In  rare  luck,  all  the  cards  running  easily  to 
his  hand,  thus,  at  least,  gaining  time,  and  strengthening 
his  position.  There  could  no  longer  be  any  doubt  that 
the  gambler  possessed  some  knowledge  which  made 
him  a  formidable  adversary.  From  Waite's  statement 
It  was  the  loss  of  the  papers  which  left  him  helpless 
to  openly  resist  the  claim  being  made  upon  him  on  behalf 
of  the  mysterious  Phyllis.  His  only  hope,  therefore,  lay 
In  recovering  these;  but,  with  time  limited,  he  had  been 
sent  back  on  a  wild  goose  chase,  while  Keith  alone 
knew,  with  any  degree  of  posltiveness,  where  those 
documents  really  were.  Hawley  certainly  had  them 
in  his  possession  the  day  before,  for  he  had  taken 
them  to  Miss  Maclaire  to  thus  convince  her  as  to  the 
truth  of  his  statements.  And  Hawley  was  still  In 
Sheridan.  However,  it  was  not  likely  the  man  would 
risk  carrying  documents  of  such  value,  and  documents 
connecting  him  so  closely  with  that  murder  on  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail,  about  upon  his  person.  At  best,  life  was  cheap 
In  that  community,  and  Black  Bart  must  possess 
enemies  In  plenty.     Yet  If  not  on  his  person  —  where? 


240  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

Scott  was  only  a  tool,  a  mere  ignorant  desperado,  not 
to  be  trusted  to  such  a  degree  —  yet  apparently  he  was 
the  only  one  working  with  the  gambler  In  this  deal, 
the  only  one  cognizant  as  to  his  plans.  Christie  — 
Keith  came  to  a  stop  in  the  street  at  the  recurrence  of 
the  woman's  name.  Why  not?  If  she  had  been  con- 
vinced, If  she  really  believed  that  these  papers  proved 
her  right  to  both  property  and  parentage,  then  she 
would  guard  them  as  a  tigress  does  her  young.  And 
Hawley  would  know  that,  and  must  realize  they  would 
be  far  safer  in  her  hands  than  In  his  pocket.  She  could 
not  use  them  without  his  aid  and  guidance,  and  yet, 
whatever  happened  to  him,  they  would  still  be  safely 
beyond  reach.  True,  this  might  not  have  been  done; 
the  gambler  might  not  yet  have  felt  that  he  had  sufficient 
hold  upon  the  woman  to  trust  her  thus  far,  but  it  was, 
at  least,  a  possibihty  to  be  considered,  and  acted  upon. 
Still  wrestling  with  the  intricate  problem,  Keith  en- 
tered the  dining-room,  and  weaved  his  way,  as  usual, 
through  the  miscellaneous  crowd,  toward  the  more  ex- 
clusive tables  at  the  rear.  A  woman  sat  alone  at  one 
of  these,  her  back  toward  the  door.  His  first  thought 
was  that  it  must  be  Hope,  and  he  advanced  toward  her, 
his  heart  throbbing.  She  glanced  up,  a  slight  frown 
wrinkling  her  forehead,  and  he  bowed,  recognizing 
Christie  Maclaire. 


r 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A    CHANCE    CONVERSATION 

THE  opportunity  thus  so  unexpectedly  afforded  was 
not  one  to  be  wasted,  and  Keith  accepted  it  with 
swift  determination.  The  expression  in  the  woman's 
face  was  scarcely  one  of  welcome,  yet  his  purpose  was 
sufficiently  serious  to  cause  him  to  ignore  this  with  easy 
confidence  in  himself. 

"  I  am,  indeed,  most  fortunate  to  discover  you  alone, 
Miss  Maclaire,"  he  said,  avoiding  her  eyes  by  a  swift 
glance  over  the  table,  "  and  evidently  at  a  time  when 
you  are  only  beginning  your  meal.     May  I  join  you?  " 

She  hesitated  for  an  instant,  debating  with  herself, 
and  as  quickly  deciding  on  disagreeable  tactics. 

"  I  presume  this  is  a  public  table,  and  I  consequently 
have  little  choice  in  the  matter,  if  you  insist,"  she 
replied,  her  voice  more  civil  than  her  words.  "  Still, 
Mr.  Keith,  I  am  not  accustomed  to  associating  with 
criminals." 

He  smiled,  holding  his  temper  in  check,  more  than 
ever  determined  to  win, 

"  Then,   possibly,   you  may   rather  welcome  a  new 
i6  241 


242  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

diversion.  I  can  assure  you  our  criminals  out  here  are 
the  most  interesting  portion  of  our  population.  I  wish 
I  might  have  your  permission." 

Standing  there  before  her,  bare-headed,  his  slightly 
tanned  face  strong  and  manly,  his  gray  eyes  filled  with 
humor,  Miss  Maclaire  recognized  again  that  he  was 
not  of  the  common  herd,  and  the  innate  coquetry  of 
her  nature  obtained  mastery.  What  harm  could  it  do 
for  her  to  chat  with  him  for  half  an  hour?  It  was 
better  than  eating  a  lonely  meal,  and,  besides,  she  might 
learn  something  of  value  to  report  to  Hawley.  Her 
own  eyes  brightened,  the  slight  frown  disappearing. 

"  You  are  certainly  an  illustration  of  your  theory," 
she  said  pleasantly.  "  I  shall  have  to  say  yes,  but, 
really,  I  did  not  suppose  you  would  enjoy  being  ranked 
among  that  class." 

He  drew  out  a  chair,  and  sat  down  facing  her,  lean- 
ing slightly  forward  upon  the  intervening  table. 

"  Nor  would  I,  only  I  recognize  you  do  not  com- 
prehend. The  source  of  your  information  is  a  bit 
polluted.  Miss  Maclaire.  There  are  those  whose  good 
opinion  I  do  not  seek,  and  you  should  not  form  your 
decisions  on  the  unsupported  testimony  of  a  personal 
enemy." 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  rather  resenting  the  words,  and  al- 
ready regretful  of  her  compliance.     "  Surely  I  have  as 


A  CHANCE  CONVERSATION  243 

much  reason  to  trust  my  Informant  as  I  have  you.  He, 
at  least,  has  proven  himself  a  friend." 

"  I  wish  I  could  feel  as  fully  assured  of  that  as  you 
do,"  he  returned  honestly.  "  I  would  then  have  every 
temptation  to  meddle  further  taken  away  from  me. 
Do  you  realize  that  my  interest  is  very  largely  upon 
your  account?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  laughing,  "  I  could  n't  believe  that.  I 
—  I  have  heard  it  whispered  it  might  be  because  of  the 
other  girl." 

"  The  other  girl!  "  In  complete  surprise  at  this  swift 
return. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  conscious  of  having  attained  the  upper 
hand.     "  Miss  Hope  Waite." 

"  Some  more  of  Mr.  Hawley's  fancies,"  he  retorted, 
perplexed  that  so  much  should  be  suspected.  "  Have 
you  seen  her?  " 

"  Why,  of  course.  I  am  a  woman,  Mr.  Keith,  with 
all  the  natural  curiosity  of  my  sex.  In  this  case  I  had 
special  reason  to  be  Interested.  One  does  not  meet 
her  counterpart  every  day." 

"  The  resemblance  between  you  Is  certainly  most 
striking." 

"  Sufficiently  so,"  she  said  slowly,  her  eyes  on  his 
face,  "  to  abundantly  confirm  In  my  mind  the  truth  of 
all  that  has  been  told  me." 


244  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

The  waiter  approached  with  the  orders,  and  the  two 
remained  in  silence  until  he  had  deposited  his  load  upon 
the  table,  and  departed.     She  was  watching  the  face 
opposite  through  lowered  lashes  that  veiled  her  eyes, 
but  Keith  was  first  to  break  the  stillness. 
*'  I  wish  I  might  be  told  what  that  was." 
"To  what  do  you  refer?"  apparently  forgetful  as 
to  where  their  conversation  had  been  broken. 
"  To  Hawley's  proposition." 

"  No  doubt,"  her  lips  smiling,  "  but  you  have  come 
to  the  wrong  market,  Mr.  Jack  Keith." 

"  Yet,"  he  insisted  earnestly,  "  if  this  is  all  straight, 
with  no  fraud  concealed  anywhere,  if  you  have  the 
proofs  in  your  hands,  why  are  you  afraid  to  talk  openly. 
The  very  manner  in  which  Hawley  works  should  con- 
vince you  he  Is  himself  afraid  to  face  the  truth." 

"  No,  you  are  wrong.  There  are  perfectly  satisfac- 
tory reasons  why  we  should  for  the  present  keep  our 
plans  secret.  There  are  details  yet  to  be  decided  upon, 
and  Mr.  Hawley's  present  objection  to  publicity  is  only 
ordinary  prudence." 

She  leaned  toward  him,  her  fingers  playing  nervously 
with  a  knife. 

"  Mr.  Keith,  I  cannot  help  but  like  you,  and  I  also 
feel  most  kindly  disposed  toward  Mr.  Hawley.  I  wish 
in  this  I  was  no  longer  compelled  to  consider  you  an 


A  CHANCE  CONVERSATION  245 

enemy  to  us  both.  There  is  no  reason  why  I  should, - 
except  for  your  blind  prejudice  against  this  other  man 
who  is  my  friend.  I  know  you  have  some  cause,  for 
he  has  told  me  the  entire  story,  yet  I  am  sure  he  did 
no  more  than  his  actual  duty.  He  let  me  realize  how 
very  sorry  he  was  that  the  marshal  at  Carson  City  had 
called  upon  him  for  assistance." 

"  Who?  Hawley?  "  Keith  questioned,  hardly  trust- 
ing his  own  ears. 

"Yes;  indeed  he  is  a  very  different  man  from  what 
you  have  been  led  to  believe.  I  know  he  is  a  gambler, 
and  all  that,  but  really  it  is  not  altogether  his  fault. 
He  told  me  about  his  life,  and  it  was  very  sad.  He 
was  driven  from  home  when  only  a  boy,  and  naturally 
drifted  into  evil  company.  His  one  ambition  is  to 
break  away,  and  redeem  himself.  I  am  so  anxious  to 
help  him,  and  wish  you  could  realize  his  purpose,  as 
I  do,  and  become  his  friend.  Won't  you,  for  my  sake? 
Why,  even  in  this  affair  he  has  not  the  slightest  mercen- 
ary purpose  —  he  has  only  thought  of  what  was  right- 
fully mine." 

Keith  listened,  feeling  to  the  full  the  woman's 
earnestness,  the  impossibility  of  changing  her  fixed  con- 
viction. Hawley  had  planted  his  seed  deep  and  well 
in  fruitful  soil. 

"  You  make  a  strong  and  charming  advocate,  Miss 


246  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

Maclaire,"  he  returned,  feeling  the  necessity  of  saying 
something.  "  I  should  like  to  have  you  equally  earnest 
on  my  side.  Yet  it  will  be  hard  to  convince  me  that 
'  Black  Bart '  is  the  paragon  of  virtue  you  describe.  I 
wish  I  might  believe  for  your  sake.  Did  he  also  ex- 
plain how  he  came  into  possession  of  these  papers?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed;  there  is  no  secret  about  that. 
They  were  entrusted  to  him  by  an  old  man  whom  he 
discovered  sick  in  Independence,  and  who  died  in  his 
rooms  three  years  ago.  Mr.  Hawley  has  been  search- 
ing ever  since  for  the  old  man's  grand-daughter.  It  is 
remarkable  how  he  was  finally  convinced  that  I  was  the 
one." 

"  A  photograph,  was  it  not?  " 

A  gleam  of  sudden  suspicion  appeared  in  the  brown 
eyes,  a  slight  change  in  facial  expression. 

"  That  was  a  clue,  yes,  but  far  from  being  all.  But 
why  should  I  tell  you  this  ?  —  you  believe  nothing  I 
say." 

"  I  believe  that  you  believe;  that  you  are  fully  con- 
vinced of  the  justice  of  your  claim.  Perhaps  It  Is  just, 
but  I  am  suspicious  of  anything  which  Bart  Hawley 
has  a  hand  in.  Miss  Christie,  you  really  make  me  wish 
to  retain  your  friendship,  but  I  cannot  do  so  if  the  cost 
includes  faith  in  Hawley.  Do  you  know  that  is  not 
even  his  name  —  that  he  lives  under  an  alias?" 


A  CHANCE  CONVERSATION  247 

"  Is  there  anything  strange  in  that  out  here?  "  she 
asked  stoutly.  "  I  told  you  how  deeply  he  regretted 
his  life;  that  alone  would  be  sufficient  cause  for  him  to 
drop  his  family  name.  Did  you  ever  learn  his  true 
name?  " 

He  was  not  sure  —  only  as  Neb  had  reported  what 

Waite  had  called  the  man,  yet  ventured  a  direct  reply. 

"  Bartlett,  I  believe  —  he  uses  it  now  as  a  prefix." 

"  Bartlett !  —  Bartlett !  "  her  hands  clasping,  and 
unclasping  nervously.  "  Why,  what  a  strange  co- 
incidence !  " 

"  How?     What  do  you  mean?  " 

"Oh,  nothing  —  nothing,"  biting  her  lips  in  vexa- 
tion. "  The  name  merely  recalled  something.  But 
really  I  must  go,  Mr.  Keith,  or  I  shall  be  late  at  the 
theatre.     You  have  not  attended  since  I  came?  " 

"  No,"  arising  from  the  table  with  her.  "  How- 
ever, I  have  heard  you  sing  before,  and  hope  I  may 
again." 

"  How  tenderly  you  dwell  on  that  word  '  hope,'  " 
she  said  banteringly,   "  it  almost  makes  me  envious." 

"  Your  resemblance  almost  makes  me  forget." 

"  But  not  quite?  " 

"  No,  not  quite,"  he  confessed,  smiling  back  into  her 
quizzing  eyes. 

They  went  out  into  the  hall  together,  only  to  meet 


248  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

with  Doctor  Fairbain  at  the  door.  The  latter  stared 
at  the  two  with  some  embarrassment,  for  a  moment  for- 
getful of  his  purpose.  His  gaze  settled  on  the  face  of 
the  lady. 

"  Always  getting  you  two  mixed,"  he  blurted  forth. 
"  Never  saw  such  resemblance  —  positively  uncanny  — 
same  hotel  too  means  trouble  —  this  Miss  Waite?  " 

"No,  Doctor;  I  am  Miss  Maclaire." 

"  Ought  to  have  known  it  —  if  I  knew  as  much  about 
faces  as  I  do  about  anatomy  never  would  make  such 
mistake  —  very  sorry  —  what  fooled  me  was  seeing 
you  with  Keith — thought  he  was  after  the  other  one 
—  gay  dog  though  —  never  satisfied  —  was  hunting 
after  you." 

"After  me?"  evidently  amused. 

"Certainly  —  you  —  went  to  the  room  —  then  to 
the  clerk  —  said  you  were  in  at  supper  —  just  occurred 
to  me  streets  here  bad  at  night  —  thought  I  'd  ask  you 
to  let  me  escort  you  to  theatre  and  back  —  a  bit  of 
lunch  later  — "  he  glanced  suspiciously  at  Keith  — 
"  probably  got  here  too  late." 

"  Well  really  you  have.  Doctor,"  she  replied  sweetly, 
veiling  her  eyes  to  hide  their  laughter.  "  But  I  can 
assure  you  it  is  not  Mr.  Keith,"  courtcsying  slightly  to 
the  latter,  "  for  he  has  not  honored  me;  we  merely 
met  by  chance  at  the  table.     I  am  sure  I  should  enjoy 


A  CHANCE  CONVERSATION  249 

your  company  exceedingly,  but  to-night  I  must  plead  a 
previous  engagement." 
"  Ah  —  ah,  some  other  night?  " 

"  With  pleasure,  yes." 

The  doctor  faded  away  into  the  office,  not  wholly 
satisfied  because  Keith  still  lingered.  Miss  Christie  ex- 
tended her  hand. 

"Isn't  he  a  funny  man?  But  I  do  like  him  — 
someway  I  like  so  many  people  whom  perhaps  I  ought 
not,  including  you,  Mr.  Jack  Keith.  Please  think  over 
what  I  told  you  about  Mr.  Hawley,  won't  you?  " 

"Certainly;  you  have  given  me  food  for  thought. 
I  presume  he  is  to  be  your  escort?  " 

She  bowed,  evidently  resenting  the  question. 

"  Yes,  and  It  may  interest  you  to  know  that  he  has 
something  of  the  utmost  importance  to  tell  me  to-night 
—  he  has  actually  seen  my  guardian.  Don't  you  wish 
you  could  be  there?  " 

She  gave  him  a  tantalizing  smile,  withdrawing  her 
hand,  and  running  up  the  stairs  before  he  could  answer. 
Over  the  railing  of  the  landing  she  glanced  down,  and 
then  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

MISS    HOPE    SUGGESTS 

NO  sooner  had  Miss  Maclaire  vanished  than 
Keith's  thoughts  turned  toward  Hope  Waite. 
She  would  need  someone  in  her  loneliness  to  take  her 
mind  from  off  her  brother's  death,  and,  besides,  much 
had  occurred  of  interest  since  the  funeral,  which  he  de- 
sired to  talk  over  with  her.  Beyond  even  these  con- 
siderations he  was  becoming  aware  of  a  pleasure  in  the 
girl's  company  altogether  foreign  to  this  mystery  which 
they  were  endeavoring  together  to  solve.  He  yearned 
to  be  with  her,  to  look  into  her  face,  to  mark  how 
clearly  the  differing  soul  changed  her  from  Christie 
Maclaire.  He  could  not  help  but  like  the  latter,  yet 
somehow  was  conscious  of  totally  different  atmospheres 
surrounding  the  two.  With  one  he  could  be  flippant, 
careless,  even  deceitful,  but  the  other  aroused  only  the 
best  that  was  in  him,  her  own  sincerity  making  him 
sincere. 

Yet  there  was  reluctance  in  his  steps  as  he  approached 

250 


MISS  HOPE  SUGGESTS  251 

the  door  of  "  15,"  a  laggardness  he  could  not  explain, 
but  which  vanished  swiftly  enough  at  Hope's  greeting, 
and  the  sudden  smile  with  which  she  recognized  him. 

"  I  was  sure  you  would  come,"  she  declared  frankly, 
"  and  I  took  an  early  lunch  so  as  to  be  certain  and  be 
here.     It  has  seemed  a  long  time  since." 

"  And  you  might  have  even  thought  I  had  forgot- 
ten," he  answered,  releasing  her  hand  reluctantly,  "  if 
you  could  have  looked  into  the  dining-room  since,  in- 
stead of  staring  out  of  these  windows." 

"Why?  How  forgotten?"  her  eyes  opening  wide 
in  surprise. 

"  I  had  the  pleasure  of  taking  supper  with  Miss 
Maclaire." 

"  Oh!  "  the  exclamation  decidedly  expressive. 

"  Yes,  I  come  at  once  to  you  with  the  confession. 
However,  our  meeting  was  purely  accidental,  and  so 
I  hope  for  pardon." 

"  Pardon  from  me?  Why,  what  difference  can  it 
possibly  make  to  me?  " 

"Would  you  have  me  consort  with  the  enemy?" 
he  asked,  scarcely  daring  to  press  his  deeper  meaning. 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not.  What  did  you  talk  about? 
Do  you  mind  telling?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least;  our  conversation  was  entirely  im- 
personal.    She  was  telling  me  about  Hawley;  what  a 


252  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

wonderfully  good  man  he  is.  I  have  begun  to  suspect 
the  fellow  has  fascinated  the  poor  girl  —  he  is  a  good 
looking  devil,  possessed  of  a  tongue  dripping  with 
honey." 

"  Surely  you  do  not  mean  she  has  fallen  in  love  with 
him,"  and  Hope  shuddered  at  the  thought.  "Why 
—  why  that  would  be  impossible  for  —  for  a  good 
woman." 

"  Standards  of  morality  are  not  always  the  same," 
he  defended  gravely.  "  Miss  Maclaire's  environment 
has  been  vastly  different  from  yours,  Hope.  She  is 
a  variety  hall  singer;  probably,  from  her  own  account, 
a  waif  since  childhood;  and  Hawley  has  come  to  her  in 
the  character  of  a  friend,  appealing  both  to  her  inter- 
est and  sympathy.  I  do  not  know  she  is  in  love  with 
him,  I  merely  suspect  she  may  be ;  certainly  she  is  ready 
to  do  battle  on  his  behalf  at  the  slightest  opportunity. 
She  believes  in  him,  defends  him,  and  resents  the  slight- 
est insinuation  directed  against  him.  He  even  escorts 
her  back  and  forth  from  her  work." 

"You  know  this?" 

"  I  certainly  do,"  and  he  laughed  at  the  recolkction. 
"  Fairbain  met  us  coming  out  of  the  dining-room, — 
you  know  what  a  delightful,  blunt,  blundering  old  fellow 
he  is!  Well,  Miss  Christie  must  have  made  an  impres- 
sion even  on  his  bachelor  heart,   for  he  actually  re- 


MISS  HOPE  SUGGESTS  253 

quested  the  privilege  of  escorting  her  to  the  Trocadero, 
and  back  to  the  hotel  after  the  performance  to-night 
—  hinted  at  a  lunch,  the  gay  old  dog,  and  pranced 
about  like  a  stage-door  Johnnie.  It  was  a  treat  to 
watch  her  face  when  he  blurted  it  all  out,  snapping  his 
sentences  as  if  he  swung  a  whip-lash.  She  excused  her- 
self on  the  score  of  a  previous  engagement." 

"  But  that  was  not  necessarily  with  Hawley." 

"  I  asked  her  directly,  after  the  doctor  had  disap- 
peared." 

"  You  must  have  become  very  familiar,"  questioning 
once  again  in  her  voice. 

"  So  Miss  Maclaire  evidently  thought,  judging  from 
her  manner.  However  she  answered  frankly  enough, 
and,  even  defiantly,  added  the  information  that  the 
gentleman  had  something  to  impart  to  her  of  the  utmost 
importance,  sarcastically  asking  me  if  I  did  n't  wish 
I  could  be  there  and  overhear.  But  sit  down,  Hope, 
until  I  tell  you  all  that  has  occurred." 

He  went  over  the  various  events  in  detail,  watching 
eagerly  the  expression  upon  her  face  as  she  listened  In- 
tently, only  occasionally  interrupting  with  some  perti- 
nent inquiry.  The  light  fell  so  that  she  sat  partially 
in  the  shadow,  where  her  eyes  could  not  be  read,  yet 
he  experienced  no  difficulty  in  comprehending  the 
various  moods  with  which  she  met  his  narrative,  the 


254  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

color  changing  in  her  cheeks,  her  supple  form  bending 
toward  him,  or  leaning  backward  In  the  chair,  her 
fingers  clasping  or  unclasping  in  nervous  attention.  He 
began  with  Neb's  report,  repeating,  word  by  word,  as 
nearly  as  he  could  recollect,  what  had  passed 
between  Hawley  and  her  father.  He  paused  to  inquire 
if  she  had  ever  heard  the  name  Bartlett,  but  her  reply 
was  merely  a  negative  shake  of  the  head.  When  he 
described  their  missing  the  train,  she  was,  apparently, 
not  convinced  as  to  the  General's  departure  upon  It, 
although  finally  agreeing  that.  If  he  really  believed  the 
report  that  the  man  sought  was  elsewhere,  it  would  be 
characteristic  of  him  to  accept  the  first  means  of  getting 
there.  "  If  he  only  knew  I  was  here,"  she  exclaimed 
wearily,  "  it  might  be  so  different,  but,  oh,  we  are  all 
of  us  just  groping  In  the  dark."  Then  Keith  turned 
to  his  chance  meeting  with  Miss  Maclaire,  and  repeated 
carefully  their  conversation,  dwelling  particularly  upon 
the  few  admissions  which  had  slipped  through  her  lips. 
These  did  not  seem  Important  to  either,  although  they 
treasured  them  up  and  talked  them  over.  Then,  hav- 
ing exhausted  the  topic,  silence  fell  between  them, 
Keith  asking  the  privilege  of  lighting  a  cigar.  Hope, 
after  watching  him  apply  the  match,  thinking  what  a 
fine  face  he  had  as  the  ruddy  flame  brought  it  forth  with 
the  clearness  of  a  cameo,  leaned  back,  drawing  aside 


MISS  HOPE  SUGGESTS  255 

the  semblance  to  a  lace  curtain,  and  staring  forth,  with- 
out seeing,  into  the  street. 

Somehow  it  was  hard  for  her  to  fully  realize  the 
situation,  and  how  closely  it  affected  her.  The  swiftly 
passing  events,  the  complication  arising  so  suddenly, 
apparently  out  of  nothing,  left  her  feeling  as  though 
she  must  surely  awake  from  a  dream.  She  could  not 
comprehend  what  it  was  all  about;  the  names  Bartlett 
and  Phyllis  had  no  clear  meaning,  they  represented 
nothing  but  shadows;  and  this  other  woman  —  this 
music  hall  singer  —  what  could  there  be  in  common 
between  them  ?  Yet  there  must  be  something  —  some- 
thing of  vital  importance  to  her  father  —  something 
which  had  already  cost  her  brother's  life.  That  was 
the  one  thing  which  made  it  seem  an  actuality  —  which 
brought  it  home  to  her  as  a  rugged  fact.  But  for  that 
—  and  Keith  —  Keith  sitting  there  before  her  —  she 
would  have  doubted  it  all.  And  yet  even  Keith  had 
come  into  her  life  so  suddenly,  so  unexpectedly,  as  to 
leave  her  dazed  and  uncertain.  So  strongly  did  this 
feeling  grip  her  in  the  silence,  that  she  extended  her 
hand  and  touched  him,  as  though  to  make  sure  of  his 
actual  presence. 

"What  is  it,  Hope?" 

"Oh,  nothing  —  nothing,"  her  voice  breaking  in  a 
little  sob.     "  It  is  so  silly,  but  I  was  just  wondering  if 


256  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

you  were  real  —  everything  seems  so  impossible.  I 
cannot  bring  my  mind  to  grasp  the  situation." 

He  did  not  smile,  but  only  took  the  groping  hand 
into  both  of  his  own. 

"  I  think  I  understand,  little  girl,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  You  are  totally  unused  to  such  life.  Almost  without 
a  moment's  warning  you  have  been  plunged  into  a 
maelstrom  of  adventure,  and  are  all  confused.  It  is 
different  with  me  —  since  the  first  shot  at  Sumter  my 
life  has  been  one  of  action,  and  adventure  has  grown 
to  be  the  stimulus  I  need,  and  upon  which  I  thrive. 
But  I  assure  you,"  pressing  the  soft  hand  warmly,  "  I 
am  real." 

"  Of  course  I  know  that;  it  makes  me  glad  to  know 
it.  If  I  could  only  do  something  myself,  and  not  just 
sit  here,  it  would  all  become  real  enough  to  me." 

She  rose  suddenly  to  her  feet,  clasping  her  hands 
together,  her  face  changing  with  new  animation. 

"Why  couldn't  I?  I  am  sure  I  could.  Oh,  Mr. 
Keith,  it  has  just  come  to  me  how  I  can  help." 

He  looked  at  her  questioningly,  thinking  of  her 
beauty  rather  than  of  what  she  said. 

"  Do  —  do  I  really  appear  so  much  like  —  like  that 
woman?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Very  much,  indeed,  excepting  for  the  slight  differ- 
ence in  age." 


MISS  HOPE  SUGGESTS  257 

"  That  would  never  be  noticed  in  the  dark,  or  a  poor 
light.     Am  I  the  same  height?  " 

"  Practically,  yes." 

"And  my  voice?  —  could  you  distinguish  me  from 
her  by  my  voice?  " 

"  I  might;  yet  probably  not,  unless  my  suspicions 
were  aroused.     What  is  it  you  are  thinking  about?  " 

She  took  a  deep  breath,  standing  now  directly  facing 
him  In  the  light. 

"  Of  playing  Miss  Maclaire  to-night,"  she  said 
quickly.  "  Of  taking  her  place,  and  learning  what  it  is 
of  so  much  importance  Hawley  has  to  report.  Don't 
you  think  it  might  be  done?  " 

The  sheer  audacity  of  this  unexpected  proposal  left 
him  speechless.  He  arose  to  his  feet,  gripping  the  back 
of  the  chair,  almost  doubting  if  he  could  have  heard 
aright,  his  eyes  searching  the  girl's  face  which  was  glow- 
ing with  excitement.  Of  course  he  could  not  permit 
of  her  exposure  to  such  a  risk;  the  scheme  was  imprac- 
ticable, absurd.  But  was  it?  Did  it  not  offer  a  fair 
chance  of  success?  And  was  not  the  possible  result 
worthy  the  risk  assumed?  He  choked  back  the  earlier 
words  of  protest  unuttered,  puzzled  as  to  what  he  had 
best  say.  A  quick-witted  resourceful  woman  might  ac- 
complish all  she  proposed. 

"  It  looks  so  simple,"  she  broke  In  Impulsively,  mov- 
17 


258  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

ing  nearer   him.     "Don't  you   think   I   could   do   it? 
Would  it  be  unwomanly?  " 

"  The  result,  if  accomplished,  would  abundantly 
justify  the  means,  Hope,"  he  acknowledged  at  last. 
"  I  was  not  hesitating  on  that  account,  but  considering 
the  risk  you  would  incur." 

"  That  would  be  so  small  —  merely  the  short  walk 
alone  with  him  from  the  theatre  to  the  hotel,"  she 
pleaded.  "  Once  here  it  could  make  no  difference  If  he 
did  discover  my  identity,  for  there  would  be  plenty 
of  men  near  at  hand  to  come  to  my  defence.  Oh, 
please  say  yes." 

"If  I  do,  then  we  must  make  the  illusion  perfect, 
and  take  as  few  chances  of  discovery  as  possible.  I 
must  learn  exactly  how  the  other  dresses,  and  when  she 
leaves  the  theatre.  Fortunately  for  the  success  of  your 
plan  the  Trocadero  permits  no  one  but  performers  to 
come  behind  the  scenes,  so  that  Hawley  will  be  com- 
pelled to  wait  for  the  lady  outside  the  stage  door.  I 
had  better  go  at  once,  and  see  to  these  details." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  her  eyes  sparkling  with  anticipa- 
tion, "  and  I  am  so  glad  you  are  willing,  I  will  be 
most  discreet.  You  are  not  sorry  I  made  the  pro- 
posal?" 

"  Certainly  not.  At  first  it  struck  me  as  altogether 
wrong,  but  the  more  I  think  of  it  the  stronger  it  appeals 


MISS  HOPE  SUGGESTS  259 

to  me.  It  may  reveal  to  us  the  whole  conspiracy,  and 
I  cannot  believe  Hawley  would  venture  upon  any  gross 
familiarity  likely  to  cost  him  the  good  opinion  of  his 
ally.  There  Is  too  much  at  stake.  Wait  here,  Hope, 
and  I  will  be  back  the  very  moment  I  learn  all  that  Is 
necessary." 

A  glance  at  the  office  clock  convinced  Keith  that, 
in  all  probability,  Miss  Maclaire  had  not,  as  yet,  de- 
parted for  the  scene  of  her  evening  triumph.  Still,  It 
could  not  be  long  before  she  would,  and  he  lit  a  cigar, 
sitting  down  In  a  corner  partially  concealed  by  the 
clerk's  desk  to  wait  her  appearance.  This  required 
longer  than  anticipated,  and  fearing  lest  he  might  have 
missed  the  departure  entirely,  he  was  about  to  ques- 
tion the  busy  Thomas,  when  he  beheld  Hawley  enter 
hurriedly  from  the  street  and  run  up  the  stairs.  He 
then  had  been  the  laggard.  All  the  better,  as  he  would 
now  have  no  opportunity  to  unfold  his  tale  to  the  lady, 
as  It  would  be  necessary  for  them  to  hurry  to  the  thea- 
tre. Whatever  the  nature  of  the  revelation  It  would 
have  to  wait  until  the  walk  home.  The  excitement  of 
the  adventure  was  already  creeping  Into  Keith's  blood, 
his  pulse  quickening. 

The  two  returned  almost  immediately,  conclusively 
proving  that  Miss  Maclaire,  fully  dressed  for  the 
street,  had  been  awaiting  the  arrival  of  her  gallant  with 


26o  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

some  Impatience.  Hawley  was  busily  explaining  his  de- 
lay as  they  came  down  the  stairs,  and  paid  little  atten- 
tion to  the  seemingly  deserted  office.  Indeed,  Miss 
Christie  monopolized  all  his  thoughts.  With  quick 
scrutiny  the  watcher  noted  the  more  conspicuous  articles 
of  apparel  constituting  her  costume  —  the  white  man- 
tilla thrown  over  her  head,  the  neatly  fitting  blue  dress, 
the  light  cape  covering  the  shoulders  —  surely  it  would 
not  be  difficult  to  duplicate  these,  so  as  to  pass  muster 
under  the  dim  light  of  the  streets.  Far  enough  in  their 
rear  to  feel  safe  from  observation  he  followed,  noting 
with  increased  pleasure  the  rapidity  with  which  they 
covered  the  required  distance.  Clearly  Miss  Christie 
was  already  nervous  lest  she  have  not  sufficient  time 
remaining  In  which  to  properly  dress  for  her  act,  and 
there  would  be  no  exchange  of  confidences  on  the  out- 
ward journey.  Hawley  left  her,  as  Keith  anticipated, 
at  the  stage  entrance,  the  lady  hastening  within.  Her 
escort  strolled  leisurely  back  to  the  front  of  the  house, 
and  finally,  purchasing  a  ticket,  entered,  the  perform- 
ance already  having  begun. 

Keith  knew  perfectly  the  arrangement  of  the  theatre 
—  the  seats  In  front;  tables  all  through  the  centre;  a 
gallery  filled  with  benches;  a  noisy  orchestra  beneath 
the  stage;  a  crowded  audience  of  men,  with  only  here 
and  there  a  scattered  representative  of  the  gentler  sex; 


MISS  HOPE  SUGGESTS  261 

busy  waiters  dodging  in  and  out  among  the  tables, 
and  down  the  aisles,  filling  orders  for  liquids  from  the 
nearby  saloon.  The  air  would  be  pungent  with  the 
odor  of  drink,  thick  with  the  fumes  of  tobacco,  and 
noisy  with  voices,  except  as  some  special  favorite  on 
the  stage  won  temporary  attention.  The  Trocadero 
possessed  but  one  redeeming  feature  —  no  doorway 
connected  stage  and  auditorium,  and  the  management 
brooked  no  Interference  with  his  artists.  It  had  re- 
quired some  nerve  to  originally  enforce  this  rule,  to- 
gether with  a  smart  fight  or  two,  but  at  this  period  It 
was  acknowledged  and  respected.  No  sooner  had 
Hawley  vanished  than  Keith  found  occasion  to  enter  Into 
casual  conversation  with  the  door-keeper,  asking  a  num- 
ber of  questions,  and  leaving  Impressed  upon  the  mind 
of  that  astute  Individual  the  Idea  that  he  was  dealing 
with  a  "  gent  "  enamored  of  one  of  the  stage  beauties. 
A  coin  slipped  quietly  Into  the  man's  hand  served  to 
deepen  this  Impression,  and  unlocked  discreet  lips  other- 
wise sworn  to  secrecy.  Out  of  much  general  Informa- 
tion a  little  of  real  value  was  thus  extracted  —  Miss 
Maclaire's  act  began  at  9  145  and  was  over  promptly  at 
10:10.  It  required  about  twenty  minutes  more  for  her 
to  change  again  into  street  clothes,  and  she  usually  left 
the  theatre  Immediately  after,  which  would  be  about 
10:30.     Yes,  there  was  a  vestibule  outside  the  stage 


262  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

door,  and  on  bad  nights,  those  waiting  for  the  ladles 
could  slip  in  there.  But  on  such  a  night  as  this  they 
generally  hung  around  outside.  No,  there  was  no 
watchman,  but  the  manager  was  frequently  prowling 
around.  He  'd  be  busy,  however,  at  10:30,  getting  the 
stage  ready  for  the  "  Flying  Hermanns."  Abundantly 
satisfied  and  resisting  the  door-keeper's  professional 
suggestion  that  he  'd  better  buy  a  ticket  and  take  a  look 
at  the  show,  Keith  slipped  away,  and  hastened  back  to 
the  hotel.  The  more  he  Investigated  the  more  feasible 
appeared  the  girl's  plan,  and  he  was  now  fully  com- 
mitted to  it. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  STAGE  DOOR  OF  THE  TROCADERO 

HOPE  discovered  very  little  difficulty  in  duplicat- 
ing the  outer  garments  Keith  reported  Miss 
Maclaire  as  wearing.  The  colors,  indeed,  were  not 
exactly  the  same,  yet  this  difference  was  not  sufficient 
to  be  noticeable  at  night  by  the  eyes  of  a  man  who  had 
no  reason  to  suspect  deceit.  The  girl  was  in  a  flutter 
of  nervous  excitement  as  she  hastened  about  the  room, 
donning  her  few  requirements  of  masquerade,  yet 
Keith  noted  with  appreciation  that  she  became  per- 
ceptibly cooler  as  the  moment  of  departure  approached. 
With  cheeks  aflame  and  eyes  sparkling,  yet  speaking 
with  a  voice  revealing  no  falter,  she  pressed  his  arm 
and  declared  herself  prepared  for  the  ordeal.  The 
face  under  the  shadow  of  the  mantilla  was  so  arch  and 
piquant,  Keith  could  not  disguise  his  admiration. 

"Am  I  Christie  Maclaire?"  she  asked  laughingly. 

*'  Sufficiently  so   to    fool   our   friend,"   he   returned, 

"  but  I  am  ready  to  swear  that  lady  never  looked  so 

charming." 

263 


264  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  A  compliment,  and  spoken  as  though  you  really 
meant  It." 

"  Have  I  not  been  honest  enough  with  you  in  the 
past,  to  be  credited  with  honesty  now?"  he  protested, 
a  little  hurt  by  the  bantering  tone. 

"  Of  course  you  have;  I  merely  talk  lightly  to  keep 
my  courage  up.  You  can  have  no  idea  how  afraid  I 
am. 

"  Then  you  are  truly  an  actress,  for  you  appear  the 
picture  of  enjoyment.  But  we  must  go,  or  Hawley 
will  be  there  before  us,  and  thus  spoil  all  our  plans." 

They  passed  out  through  the  office  together,  seeing 
no  one  familiar  to  either,  Hope  keeping  her  face  par- 
tially concealed.  The  east  side  of  the  street  was  less 
frequented  than  the  other,  having  fewer  saloons  along 
Its  way,  and  they  chose  its  darkness.  As  they  ad- 
vanced, the  long  habit  of  frontier  life  caused  Keith  to 
glance  behind  before  they  had  progressed  a  block,  and 
he  was  thus  made  aware  that  they  were  being  followed. 
Conversing  lightly,  and  without  a  word  to  alarm  the 
girl,  he  yet  managed  to  observe  every  movement  of 
the  dimly  outlined  figure  which  advanced  with  them, 
timing  every  motion  to  theirs.  Long  before  they  crossed 
the  street  to  the  Trocadero  he  was  convinced  there  was 
no  mistake  —  the  fellow,  whoever  he  might  be,  was 
trailing   them.     Keith   smiled   grimly   to    himself,    re- 


THE  STAGE  DOOR  265 

solving  that,  as  soon  as  he  had  left  the  lady,  he  would 
teach  the  spy  a  lesson  not  soon  to  be  forgotten. 

They  barely  entered  the  outer  circle  of  the  Tro- 
cadero  lights,  noting  a  group  of  men  thronging  about 
the  doors,  and  hearing  the  sound  of  the  band  within, 
and  then  turned  swiftly  down  the  narrow  dark  alley- 
way leading  toward  the  stage  entrance.  Keith,  hav- 
ing been  there  before,  advanced  confidently,  but  Hope, 
her  heart  beating  wildly,  clung  to  his  arm,  scarcely 
venturing  a  word  in  reply  to  his  whispered  assurances. 
Fortunately  they  encountered  no  one,  and  Keith,  feeling 
cautiously  In  the  dark,  easily  succeeded  in  locating  the 
opening  to  the  vestibule.  Listening  intently  he  be- 
came convinced  that  no  one  occupied  the  little  shed. 
He  had  intended  to  remain  with  the  girl  until  the  time 
came  for  her  to  emerge,  but  the  remembrance  of  that 
figure  dogging  them  all  the  way  from  the  hotel  now 
caused  a  change  of  plan.  He  held  her  hand  closely 
clasped  in  his. 

*'  Now,  Hope,  I  am  going  to  leave  you,"  he  whis- 
pered, "  and  your  own  wit  will  have  to  carry  you 
through.  I  know  you  will  play  your  part  all  right,  and 
it  will  be  mine  to  wait  for  Christie,  and  give  her  some 
explanation  of  why  Hawley  failed  to  meet  her  as  he 
promised.  It  will  never  do  for  her  to  suspect,  until  you 
have  time  to  learn  all  possible.     You  are  not  afraid?  " 


266  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  clinging  to  him,  "  but  —  but  I  am  go- 
ing through  it  just  the  same." 

"  The  truest  kind  of  courage,  my  girl.  Now  slip 
inside,  but  hold  the  door  ajar.  Hawley  will  certainly 
be  here  within  ten  minutes,  and  you  must  join  him  at 
once,  or  else  the  other  might  appear.  You  can  judge 
as  to  its  being  him  even  in  this  darkness.     Good-bye." 

The  longing  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms,  to  speak  the 
language  of  his  heart,  was  almost  overwhelming,  yet 
the  memory  of  that  figure  slinking  along  behind  them, 
and  the  brief  time  before  Hawley's  probable  appearance, 
for  he  would  leave  the  theatre  at  the  conclusion  of  Miss 
Maclaire's  act,  restrained  all  demonstration.  This 
was  a  moment  for  action,  not  for  words  of  love;  no 
delay  should  hazard  the  success  of  their  undertaking. 
He  heard  the  slight  creak  of  the  door  as  the  girl 
slipped  within  the  concealment  of  the  vestibule,  and 
then  he  glided  away  through  the  darkness  with  the 
stealthy  silence  of  an  Indian.  There  was  no  one  in 
the  alley-way,  which  was  narrow  and  easily  explored, 
but  the  glow  from  the  front  windows  plainly  revealed 
the  shadow  of  a  man  near  the  entrance,  and  Keith 
slipped  up  toward  him,  hugging  the  side  of  the  build- 
ing for  concealment,  prepared  to  resort  to  harsh  meas- 
ures. As  he  reached  out,  gripping  the  astonished 
loiterer  by  the  collar,  the  two  stared  at  one  another  in 


THE  STAGE  DOOR  267 

surprise,  and  the  gripping  hand  as  instantly  released 
its  hold. 

"You,  Falrbain!  What  the  devil  does  this  mean? 
What  are  you  spying  on  us  for?  " 

Clearly  taken  aback,  yet  not  greatly  disturbed,  his 
eyes  showing  pugnacious  and  his  jaw  set,  the  Doctor 
rubbed  his  throat  where  Keith's  knuckles  had  left  a 
red  welt. 

"  Damn  you,  I  think  I  'm  the  one  to  ask  for  an  ex- 
planation," he  growled.  "  She  said  she  was  not  going 
with  you,  and  now  you  are  around  here  together  at 
this  hour.  I  had  a  right  to  know  whether  I  was  being 
played  with  like  that." 

"  But,  man,  that  was  not  Miss  Maclaire  I  was  with; 
it  was  Hope  Waite.  Come  back  here  under  the  tent 
flap  while  I  explain." 

Fearful  of  the  coming  of  Hawley  he  fairly  dragged 
the  portly  figure  of  the  bewildered  Doctor  with  him, 
striving,  by  quickly  spoken  words,  to  make  him  compre- 
hend the  situation.  Knowing  previously  something  of 
the  Issues  involv^ed,  it  was  not  difficult  to  make  Fair- 
bain  grasp  the  meaning  of  this  present  movement,  yet 
his  sympathies  were  at  once  enlisted  upon  the  side  of 
Miss  Christie.  He  'd  be  damned  if  he  would  have  any 
part  in  such  a  scheme  —  if  she  had  a  right  to  the 
money  he  'd  help  her  get  it  —  it  was  a  cowardly  trick. 


268  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

and  he  'd  fight  If  necessary,  to  keep  her  from  becom- 
ing a  victim.  His  voice  rose,  his  arms  brandishing 
violently,  his  sentences  snapping  lllce  rifle  shots. 
Keith  angered,  and  fearful  of  a  discovery  which  would 
leave  Hope  exposed,  realized  the  futility  of  discussion 
and  turned  to  physical  force.  Grasping  the  gesticulat- 
ing man  with  both  hands,  he  flung  him  backward  and 
dragged  him  into  the  empty  tent,  kneeling  on  him  as 
he  throttled  him  to  the  earth. 

"  Now,  Doctor,  you  listen  to  me,"  he  said  sternly. 
"  I  'm  through  arguing.  I  hate  to  treat  you  like  this, 
for  you  are  my  friend,  but  I  '11  not  stand  for  interfer- 
ence here.  Do  you  get  that,  you  old  fool?  Lie  still 
until  I  get  through  1  I  respect  your  feelings  toward 
Miss  Maclalre.  She  is  a  good  girl,  and  I  hope  to 
heaven  you  get  her  if  you  want  her.  But  you  never  will 
if  you  permit  this  affair  to  go  on.  Yes,  I  know  what  I 
am  talking  about.  In  all  that  Hope  and  I  do  we  are 
serving  you  and  Christie, —  our  only  fight  is  with 
'  Black  Bart '  Hawley.  Stop  being  a  bullet-headed  old 
fool,  Fairbain,  and  understand  this  thing.  Lie  still, 
I  tell  you,  and  hear  me  out !  Hawley  is  a  liar,  a  thief, 
and  a  swindler.  There  is  a  swindle  In  this  thing  some- 
where, and  he  hopes  to  pull  out  a  big  sum  of  money 
from  it.  He  is  merely  using  Christie  to  pull  his  own 
chestnuts  out  of  the  fire.     She  Is  innocent;  we  realize 


THE  STAGE  DOOR  269 

that,  but  this  fellow  is  going  to  ruin  the  girl  unless 
we  succeed  in  exposing  him.  He  's  not  only  involving 
her  in  his  criminal  conspiracy,  but  he  's  making  love  to 
her;  he's  teaching  her  to  love  him.  That's  part  of 
his  scheme,  no  doubt,  for  then  she  will  be  so  much 
easier  handled.  I  tell  you,  Fairbain,  your  only  chance 
to  ever  win  the  interest  of  Christie  Maclaire  is  to  help 
us  down  this  fellow  Hawley.  Yes,  you  can  sit  up;  I 
reckon  you  're  beginning  to  see  clearer,  ain't  you  ?  " 

Keith  drew  aside  the  flap  of  the  tent  to  glance  with- 
out, the  light  falling  on  Fairbain's  face  as  he  struggled 
to  a  sitting  posture.  He  had  had  a  new  thought  driven 
into  him,  yet  failed  to  entirely  grasp  its  significance. 

"  But,  Jack,"  he  asked,  still  half  angry,  "  how  about 
the  girl?     Has  n't  she  any  right  to  this  money?  " 

*'  I  don't  know,"  honestly,  "  we  don't  any  of  us 
know,  but  whatever  she  has  the  right  to  she  is  going 
to  get.  You  can  bet  on  that,  old  man.  We  're 
bucking  Hawley  not  Christie  Maclaire  —  get  that  into 
your  head.  He  has  n't  any  right,  that 's  certain,  for  he 
murdered  and  stole  to  get  the  papers  —  be  quiet ! 
Here  the  fellow  comes  now !  " 

They  peered  out  together  through  the  convenient 
tent  flap,  Fairbain  scarcely  less  Interested  than  the  other, 
already  dimly  comprehending  that  his  truly  dangerous 
rival  was  the  gambler,  and  that  he  could  best  serve  the 


270  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

lady  by  helping  to  prove  to  her  the  real  character  of 
that  individual.  He  vi^as  still  blindly  groping  in  the 
haze,  yet  out  of  Keith's  sharp,  stinging  words  there 
had  come  to  him  a  guiding  light.  The  latter  gripped 
his  arm  in  restraint. 

"  Easy,  old  man,  easy  —  let  him  pass." 

Hawley  turned  into  the  alley  whistling,  evidently 
well  pleased  with  the  situation  and  anticipating  other 
delights  awaiting  his  coming.  The  glow  of  the  Tro- 
cadero's  lights  served,  an  instant,  to  reveal  his  face, 
shaded  by  the  broad  brim  of  his  hat,  and  then  he  van- 
ished into  the  dark.  Keith  leaning  far  out,  yet  keep- 
ing well  within  the  shadows,  heard  the  faint  creak  of  the 
vestibule  door  and  the  soft  murmur  of  distant  voices. 
Then  he  drew  back  suddenly,  his  hand  again  grasping 
Fairbain.  Two  figures  —  those  of  a  man  and  woman 
—  emerged  into  the  dim  light,  and  as  quickly  disap- 
peared. Apparently  her  hand  was  upon  his  arm,  and 
he  was  bending  down  so  as  to  gain  a  glimpse  of  the  face 
partially  concealed  by  the  folds  of  the  mantilla.  Only 
a  word  or  two  reached  them,  a  little  laugh,  and  the 
woman's  voice: 

"  Why,  of  course  I  hurried;  you  said  you  had  some- 
thing of  such  importance  to  tell  me." 

"  Fairbain,"  spoke  Keith,  his  lips  almost  at  the  ear 
of  the  other.     "  That  was  Hope,  all  right,  and  she 


THE  STAGE  DOOR  271 

has  got  him  going  already.     Now,  man,  will  you  help 
us  out?  " 

"I?     How?" 

"  Go  back  there,  and  meet  Miss  Maclaire.  I  don't 
care  where  you  take  her  —  lunch,  anywhere ;  only  keep 
her  from  the  hotel  as  long  as  possible.  You  can  do 
it  far  better  than  I,  for  she  will  not  suspect  you  of 
any  interest  in  this  affair.  Tell  her  any  lie  you  can 
think  up  on  account  of  Hawley's  absence.  Good  Lord, 
old  man,  can't  you  see  this  is  your  chance;  go  in  and 
win." 

Fairbain  struggled  to  his  feet,  still  a  bit  dazed  and 
uncertain,  yet  tempted  by  the  opportunity. 

"  You  're  perfectly  sure,  Keith,  this  is  n't  anything 
that  will  hurt  the  girl?" 

"Sure!  Of  course  I  am.  It's  just  Hawley  I'm 
gunning  after.  For  God's  sake,  have  n't  you  got  that 
clear  yet?  " 

"I  —  I  reckon  I  'm  an  old  fool,  Jack,"  admitted 
the  Doctor  regretfully,  "  and  when  an  old  fool  is  in 
love  he  has  n't  got  any  sense  left.  Anyhow  I  '11  do  what 
you  want  me  to  now.     Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  watch  those  others.  There  is  no  knowing 
what  play  Hawley  might  try  to  pull  off,  and  I  want  to 
keep  within  gun-shot  of  him.  Hurry  up,  man;  that 
vestibule  door  creaked  just  then." 


272  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

He  shoved  him  down  the  dark  alley,  and  dodged 
back  himself  across  the  front  of  the  tent  out  Into  the 
street.  There  was  a  crowd  of  men  in  front  of  the 
Trocadero,  but  the  couple  he  sought  were  nowhere  In 
sight. 


i 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

BY    FORCE    OF   ARMS 

TT  TITH  her  heart  throbbing  fiercely,  Hope  clung  to 
'  ^  the  outer  door  of  the  vestibule  endeavoring  to 
see  a  little  of  what  was  transpiring  without.  About 
her  was  dense  darkness,  and  she  dare  not  explore  the 
surroundings.  Behind  could  be  heard,  through  what 
must  have  been  a  thin  partition,  the  various  distrac- 
tions of  the  stage,  shifting  scenery,  music,  shuffling 
feet,  voices,  and  the  occasional  sound  of  applause. 
The  girl  had  nerved  herself  to  the  encounter  with 
Hawley  but  this  waiting  here  In  darkness  and  uncer- 
tainty tried  her  to  the  uttermost.  If  some  one  should 
venture  out  that  way  how  could  she  excuse  her  pres- 
ence or  explain  her  purpose?  She  found  herself 
trembling  in  every  limb  from  nervous  fear,  startled 
by  every  strange  sound.  Would  the  man  never  come? 
Surely  Christie  herself  must  be  ready  to  depart  by  this 
time. 

Almost  prepared  to  flee  before  the  terrors  thus  con- 
jured  up    within    her    mind,    they    left    her    as    If   by 
magic  the  moment  her  straining  eyes  distinguished  the 
i8  273 


274  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

approach  of  a  dim  figure  without.  She  could  not  tell 
who  it  was,  only  that  it  was  the  unmistakable  form 
of  a  man,  and  that  he  was  whistling  softly  to  himself. 
It  might  not  prove  to  be  the  gambler,  but  she  must 
accept  the  chance,  for  flesh  and  blood  could  stand  the 
strain  of  waiting  no  longer.  Yet  she  was  not  conscious 
of  fear,  only  of  exultation,  as  she  stepped  forth  Into 
the  open,  her  blood  again  circulating  freely  In  her  veins. 
At  the  slight  creak  of  the  door  the  man  saw  her,  his 
whistle  ceasing,  his  hat  lifted.  Instantly  she  recog- 
nized him  as  Hawley,  her  heart  leaping  with  the  excite- 
ment of  encounter. 

"  Why,  hullo,  Christie,"  he  said  familiarly,  "  I 
thought  I  was  early,  and  expected  a  ten  minutes'  wait. 
I  came  out  as  soon  as  you  left  the  stage." 

"  Oh,  I  can  dress  in  a  jiffy  when  there  Is  any  cause 
for  hurry,"  Hope  responded,  permitting  herself  to 
drift  under  his  guidance.  "Are  you  disappointed? 
Would  you  prefer  to  commune  with  nature?" 

"  Well,  I  should  say  not,"  drawing  her  hand  through 
his  arm,  and  then  patting  It  with  his  own.  "  I  have 
seen  about  all  I  care  to  of  nature,  but  not  of  Christie 
Maclalre." 

"  You  may  learn  to  feel  the  same  regarding  her," 
Hope  answered,  afraid  to  encourage  the  man,  yet  eagerly- 
fearful  lest  she  fall  to  play  her  part  aright. 


BY  FORCE  OF  ARMS  275 

"  Not  the  slightest  danger,"  laughing  lightly,  and 
pressing  her  arm  more  closely  against  his  body.  "  Al- 
though I  must  confess  you  exhibited  some  temper  when 
I  was  late  to-night." 

"  Did  I  not  have  occasion  to?  A  woman  should 
never  be  kept  waiting,  especially  if  her  engagement  be 
imperative." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  finding  any  fault,  you  little  spit- 
fire. I  like  you  all  the  better  because  you  fight.  But 
the  trouble  was,  Christie,  you  simply  jumped  on  me 
without  even  asking  how  it  occurred.  You  took  it  for 
granted  I  was  late  on  purpose  to  spite  you." 

"  Well,  were  n't  you?  "  and  the  girl  glanced  Inquir- 
ingly up  Into  his  face,  as  they  passed  out  of  the  alley 
into  the  light  of  the  Trocadero^s  windows.  "  You  cer- 
tainly acted  that  way." 

"  No,  I  did  not;  but  you  would  n't  listen,  and  besides 
I  had  no  time  then  to  explain.  There  's  a  lot  hap- 
pened this  afternoon  I  want  to  tell  you  about.  Will 
you  give  me  time  to  talk  with  you?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  surprised  at  the  question,  yet 
full  of  eagerness.     "Why  should  you  ask  that?" 

"  Because  I  want  you  alone  where  no  one  can  over- 
hear a  syllable.  I  'm  afraid  of  that  damned  hotel. 
You  never  know  who  is  In  the  next  room,  and  the 
slightest  whisper  travels   from  one  end  to  the  other. 


276  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

That  Is  one  way  In  which  Keith  got  onto  our  deal  — 
he  had  a  room  next  to  WlHoughby  and  Scott,  and  over- 
heard them  talking.  I  'm  not  going  to  take  any  more 
chances.     Will  you  go  to  '  Sheeny  Joe's  '  with  me?  " 

She  drew  back  from  him. 

"  '  Sheeny  Joe's  '?  You  mean  the  saloon  near  the 
depot?" 

"  Sure;  what 's  the  use  of  being  so  squeamish?  You 
sing  and  dance  to  a  saloon  crowd,  don't  you?  Oh,  I 
know  you  're  a  good  girl,  Christie,  and  all  that.  I  'm 
not  ranking  you  with  these  fly-by-nlghts  around  here. 
But  there  's  no  reason  that  I  can  see  why  you  should 
shy  so  at  a  saloon.  Besides,  you  won't  see  any  one. 
Joe  has  got  some  back  rooms  where  we  can  be  alone, 
and  have  a  bite  to  eat  while  we  're  talking.  What  do 
you  say  i 

"  Oh,  I  would  rather  not,"  Hope  faltered,  bewildered 
by  this  unexpected  request,  already  half-tempted  to 
break  away  and  run.  *'  Really  I  —  I  don't  want  to  go 
there." 

Hawley  was  evidently  surprised  at  this  refusal, 
naturally  supposing  from  her  life  that  Miss  Maclalre's 
scruples  would  be  easily  overcome.  This  obstinacy  of 
the  girl  aroused  his  anger. 

"  You  women  beat  the  devil,"  he  ejaculated,  gruffly, 
"  pretending  to  be  so  damn  particular.     Maybe  you  'd 


BY  FORCE  OF  ARMS  277 

rather  stand  out  there  on  the  prairie  and  talk?  "  with 
a  sweep  of  his  hand  around  the  horizon. 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  catching  desperately  at  the  straw. 
"I'm  not  afraid  of  you;  I'm  not  blaming  you  at 
all,  only  I  —  I  don't  want  to  go  to  '  Sheeny  Joe's.'  " 

He  looked  at  her,  puzzled  at  her  attitude,  and  yet 
somewhat  reassured  by  her  expression  of  confidence. 
Oh,  well,  what  was  the  difference?  It  might  be  better 
to  let  her  have  her  own  way,  and  the  change  would  not 
materially  Interfere  with  his  plans.  Of  course,  it  would 
be  pleasanter  sitting  together  at  one  of  Joe's  tables,  but 
he  could  talk  just  as  freely  out  yonder  under  the  stars. 
Besides,  It  might  be  as  well  now  to  humor  the  girl. 

"  All  right,  Christie,"  his  voice  regaining  its  pleasant 
tone.  "  You  shall  have  your  way  this  time.  There  is 
too  much  at  stake  for  us  to  quarrel  over  this." 

Frightened,  yet  not  daring  to  resist  or  exhibit  the 
least  reluctance,  she  clung  to  his  arm,  and  permitted  him 
to  lead  her  to  the  right  down  a  dark  passage  and  out 
Into  the  open  land  beyond.  He  had  to  feel  his  way 
carefully,  and  scarcely  spoke,  yet  proceeded  as  though 
the  passage  was  reasonably  familiar  and  he  had  some 
definite  point  in  view.  She  answered  in  monosyllables, 
now  thoroughly  regretful  of  having  permitted  herself 
to  drift  into  this  position,  yet  not  in  the  least  knowing 
hov/  to  extricate  herself.     Hawley  took  everything  for 


278  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

granted,  her  very  silence  convincing  him  of  her  acqui- 
escence. With  throbbing  pulse,  Hope  felt  the  small 
revolver  hidden  within  her  dress,  undoing  a  button  so 
that.  In  emergency,  she  might  grasp  It  more  quickly. 
Hawley  felt  the  movement,  the  trembling  of  her  arm. 

"  You  are  afraid,  just  the  same,"  he  said,  pressing 
her  to  him  lover-like.  "  Darkness  always  gets  on  a 
woman's  nerves." 

"  Yes,  that  and  loneliness,"  resenting  his  familiarity. 
*'  Do  we  need  to  go  any  farther?  Surely,  we  are 
alone  here." 

"  Only  a  few  steps;  the  ravine  is  yonder,  and  we  can 
sit  down  on  the  rocks.  I  want  to  smoke,  and  we  will 
be  entirely  out  of  sight  there." 

He  helped  her  down  the  rather  sharp  declivity  until 
both  were  thoroughly  concealed  below  the  prairie  level. 
Feeling  about  with  his  hands  he  found  the  surface  of 
a  smooth  rock,  and  seated  her  upon  it.  Then  a  match 
flared,  casting  an  Instant's  gleam  across  his  face  as  he 
lighted  his  cigar.  Blacker  than  ever  the  night  shut 
down  about  them,  and  he  groped  for  a  seat  beside  her. 
She  could  perceive  just  one  star  peering  through  a 
rift  of  cloud,  and  In  her  nostrils  was  the  pungent  odor 
of  tobacco.  With  a  little  shiver  of  disgust  she  drew 
slightly  away  from  him,  dreading  what  was  to  come. 
One  thing  alone  she  felt  was  in  her  favor  —  however 


BY  FORCE  OF  ARMS  279 

familiar  Hawley  attempted  to  be,  he  was  evidently  not 
yet  sufficiently  sure  of  Miss  Maclaire  to  become  en- 
tirely offensive.  She  might  not  have  frowned  at  his 
love-making,  but  apparently  he  had  not  yet  progressed 
sufficiently  far  in  her  good  graces  to  venture  to  extremes. 
Hope  pressed  her  lips  together,  determined  to  resist  any 
further  approach  of  the  man.  However,  his  earliest 
words  were  a  relief. 

"  I  reckon,  Christie,"  he  said  slowly,  between  puffs 
on  his  cigar,  the  lighted  end  of  which  faintly  illumined 
his  face,  *'  you  've  got  the  idea  I  have  brought  you 
out  here  to  make  love.  Lord  knows  I  'd  like  to  well 
enough,  but  just  now  there  's  more  important  matters 
on  hand.  Fact  is,  my  girl,  we  're  up  against  a  little 
back-set,  and  have  got  to  make  a  shift  in  our  plans  — 
a  mighty  quick  shift,  too,"  he  added,  almost  savagely. 

"I  —  I  don't  think  I  understand." 

"  No,  of  course,  you  don't.  You  Imagine  all  we  've 
got  to  do  in  a  matter  of  this  kind  Is  to  step  into  the 
nearest  court,  and  draw  the  money.  One  trouble  is, 
our  evidence  is  n't  complete  —  we  've  got  to  find  that 
woman  who  brought  you  up." 

"Oh I  "  said  Hope,  not  knowing  what  else  to  say. 

"  Yes,"  he  went  on,  apparently  satisfied  with  her  ex- 
clamation. "  Of  course,  I  know  she  's  dead,  or  at 
least,  you  say  so,  but  we  have  n't  got  enough  proof 


28o  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

MUthout  her  —  not  the  way  old  Waite  promises  to  fight 
your  claim  —  and  so  we  Ve  got  to  hunt  for  a  substitute. 
Do  you  happen  to  know  any  old  woman  about  the  right 
age  who  would  make  affidavit  for  you?  She  probably 
would  n't  have  to  go  on  the  stand  at  all.  Waite  will 
cave  in  as  soon  as  he  knows  we  Ve  got  the  evidence." 

He  waited  for  an  answer,  but  she  hardly  knew  what 
to  say.  Then  she  remembered  that  Keith  insisted  that 
Miss  Maclaire  had  no  conception  that  there  was  any 
fraud  in  her  claim. 

"No,  I  know  no  one.  But  what  do  you  mean? 
I  thought  everything  was  straight?  That  there  was 
no  question  about  my  right  to  Inherit?" 

"  Well,  there  Is  n't,  Christie,"  pulling  fiercely  on  his 
cigar.  "  But  the  courts  are  particular;  they  have  got 
to  have  the  whole  thing  In  black  and  white.  I  thought 
all  along  I  could  settle  the  entire  matter  with  Waite 
outside,  but  the  old  fool  won't  listen  to  reason.  I 
saw  him  twice  to-day." 

"  Twice?  "  surprise  wringing  the  word  from  her. 

"Yes;  thought  I  had  got  him  off  on  a  false  scent 
and  out  of  the  way,  the  first  time,  but  he  turned  up 
again  like  a  bad  penny.  What 's  worse,  he  's  evidently 
stumbled  on  to  a  bit  of  legal  Information  which  makes 
It  safer  for  us  to  disappear  until  we  can  get  the  links 
of  our  chain  forged.     He  's  taken  the  case  Into  court 


BY  FORCE  OF  ARMS  281 

already,  and  the  sheriff  is  here  tryin'  to  find  me  so  as  to 
serve  the  papers.     I  Ve  got  to  skip  out,  and  so  Ve  you." 

"  I?  "  rising  to  her  feet,  Indignantly.  "What  have 
I  done  to  be  frightened  over?  " 

He  laughed,  but  not  pleasantly. 

"  Oh,  hell,  Christie,  can't  you  understand?  Old 
Waite  is  after  you  the  same  way  he  is  me.  It  '11  knock 
our  whole  case  if  he  can  get  you  into  court  before  our 
evidence  is  ready.  All  you  know  is  what  I  have  told 
you  —  that 's  straight  enough  —  but  we  've  got  to  have 
proof.  I  can  get  it  in  a  month,  but  he  's  got  hold  of 
something  which  gives  him  a  leverage.  I  don't  know 
what  it  Is  —  maybe  it 's  just  a  bluff  —  but  the  charge 
is  conspiracy,  and  he  's  got  warrants  out.  There  is 
nothing  for  us  to  do  but  skip." 

"  But  my  clothes;  my  engagement?  "  she  urged,  feel- 
ing the  Insistent  earnestness  of  the  man,  and  sparring 
for  delay.  "  Why,  I  cannot  go.  Besides,  If  the  sheriff 
Is  hunting  us,  the  trains  will  be  watched." 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  am  fool  enough  to  risk  the 
trains?  "  he  exclaimed,  roughly,  plainly  losing  patience. 
"  Not  much;  horses  and  the  open  plains  for  us,  and  a 
good  night  the  start  of  them.  They  will  search  for 
me  first,  and  you  '11  never  be  missed  until  you  fail  to 
show  up  at  the  Trocadero.  Never  mind  the  clothes; 
they  can  be  sent  after  us." 


282  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  To-night !  "  she  cried,  awakening  to  the  immediate 
danger,  and  rising  to  her  feet.  "  You  urge  me  to  fly 
with  you  to-night  ?  —  now  ?  " 

"  Sure,  don't  be  foolish  and  kick  up  a  row.  The 
horses  are  here  waiting  just  around  the  end  of  the 
ravine." 

She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  breast,  shrinking  away 
from  him. 

"No!  No!  I  will  not  go!"  she  declared,  indig- 
nantly.    "  Keep  back!     Don't  touch  me!  " 

Hawley  must  have  expected  the  resistance,  for  with 
a  single  movement  he  grasped  her  even  as  she  turned 
to  fly,  pinning  her  arms  helplessly  to  her  side,  holding 
her  as  in  a  vice. 

"  Oh,  but  you  will,  my  beauty,"  he  growled.  "  I 
thought  you  might  act  up  and  I  'm  ready.  Do  you 
think  I  am  fool  enough  to  leave  you  here  alone  to  be 
pumped  dry?  It  is  a  big  stake  I  'm  playing  after,  girl, 
and  I  am  not  going  to  lose  it  through  the  whims  of  a 
woman.  If  you  won't  go  pleasantly,  then  you  '11  go  by 
force.  Keep  still,  you  tigress!  Do  you  want  me  to 
choke  you?  " 

She  struggled  to  break  loose,  twisting  and  turning, 
but  the  effort  was  useless.  Suddenly  he  whistled 
sharply.  There  was  the  sound  of  feet  scrambling  down 
the  path,  and  the  frightened  woman  perceived  the  dim 


BY  FORCE  OF  ARMS  283 

outlines  of  several  approaching  men.  She  gave  one 
scream,  and  Hawley  released  his  grip  on  her  arms  to 
grasp  her  throat. 

She  jerked  away,  half-stumbling  backward  over  a 
rock.  The  revolver,  carried  concealed  in  her  dress, 
was  in  her  hand.  Mad  with  terror,  scarcely  knowing 
what  she  did,  she  pulled  the  trigger.  In  the  flash  she 
saw  one  man  throw  up  his  hands  and  go  down.  The 
next  instant  the  others  were  upon  her. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

IN  Christie's  room 

KEITH  swept  his  glance  up  and  down  the  street 
without  results.  Surely,  Hawley  and  his  com- 
panion could  not  have  disappeared  so  suddenly.  They 
had  turned  to  the  right,  he  was  certain  as  to  that, 
and  he  pushed  through  the  crowd  of  men  around  the 
theatre  entrance,  and  hastened  to  overtake  them.  He 
found  nothing  to  overtake  —  nowhere  along  that 
stretch  of  street,  illumined  by  window  lights,  was  there 
any  sign  of  a  man  and  woman  walking  together.  He 
stopped  bewildered,  staring  blindly  about,  failing  ut- 
terly to  comprehend  this  mysterious  vanishing.  What 
could  it  mean?  What  had  happened?  How  could 
they  have  disappeared  so  completely  during  that  single 
moment  he  had  waited  to  speak  to  Fairbain?  The 
man's  heart  beat  like  a  trip-hammer  with  apprehension, 
a  sudden  fear  for  Hope  taking  possession  of  him. 
Surely  the  girl  would  never  consent  to  enter  any  of 
those  dens  along  the  way,  and  Hawley  would  not 
dare  resort  to  force  in  the  open  street.  The  very 
thought  seemed  preposterous,  and  yet,  with  no  other 

284 


IN  CHRISTIE'S  ROOM  285 

supposition  possible,  he  entered  these  one  after  the 
other  in  hasty  search,  questioning  the  inmates  sharply, 
only  to  find  himself  totally  baffled  —  Hawley  and 
Hope  had  vanished  as  though  swallowed  by  the  earth. 
He  explored  dark  passage-ways  between  the  scattered 
buildings,  rummaging  about  recklessly,  but  came  back  to 
the  street  again  without  reward. 

Could  they  have  gone  down  the  other  side,  in  the 
deeper  shadows,  and  thus  reached  the  hotel  more  quickly 
than  it  seemed  to  him  possible?  There  was  hardly  a 
chance  that  this  could  be  true,  and  yet  Keith  grasped  at 
it  desperately,  cursing  himself  for  having  wasted  time. 
Five  minutes  later,  breathless,  almost  speechless  with 
anxiety,  he  startled  the  clerk. 

"  Has  Miss  Waite  come  in?  Miss  Hope  Waite?  " 
*'  Blamed  if  I  know,"  retorted  the  other,  indifferently. 
"  Can't  for  the  life  of  me  tell  those  two  females  apart. 
One  of  them  passed  through  'bout  ten  minutes  ago; 
Doc  Fairbain  was  with  her.  Another  party  just  went 
upstairs  hunting  Miss  Maclaire,  and  as  they  have  n't 
come  down,  I  reckon  it  must  have  been  her  —  anything 
wrong?  " 

"  I  'm  not  sure  yet,"  shortly.  "  Who  was  this 
other  person?  " 

"  Old  fellow  with  white  hair  and  whiskers  —  swore 
like  a  pirate  —  had  the  sheriff  along  with  him." 


286  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

It  came  to  Keith  in  a  flash  —  it  was  Waite.  Perhaps 
Christie  knew.  Perhaps  the  General  knew.  Cer- 
tainly something  of  importance  was  crystaUizing  in  the 
actress'  room  which  might  help  to  explain  all  else. 
He  rushed  up  the  stairs,  barely  waiting  to  rap  once  at 
the  closed  door  before  he  pressed  it  open.  The  sight 
within  held  him  silent,  waiting  opportunity  to  blurt 
out  his  news.  Here,  also,  was  tragedy,  intense,  com- 
pelling, which  for  the  instant  seemed  to  even  over- 
shadow the  fate  of  the  girl  he  loved.  There  were  three 
men  present,  and  the  woman.  She  stood  clutching  the 
back  of  a  chair,  white-faced  and  open-eyed,  with  Fair- 
bain  slightly  behind  her,  one  hand  grasping  her  arm, 
the  other  clinched,  his  jaw  set  pugnaciously.  Facing 
these  two  was  Waite,  and  a  heavily  built  man  wearing 
a  brown  beard,  closely  trimmed. 

'*  You  'd  better  acknowledge  it,"  Waite  snapped  out, 
with  a  quick  glance  at  the  newcomer.  *'  It  will  make 
it  all  the  easier  for  you.  I  tell  you  this  is  the  sheriff, 
and  we  've  got  you  both  dead  to  rights." 

"But,"  she  urged,  "why  should  I  be  arrested?  I 
have  done  nothing." 

"  You  're  an  adventuress  —  a  damn  adventuress  — 
Hawley's  mistress,  probably  —  a  — " 

"  Now,  see  here,  Waite,"  and  Fairbain  swung  him- 
self forward,  "  you  drop  that.      Miss  Maclaire  is  my 


IN  CHRISTIE'S  ROOM  287 

friend,  and  If  you  say  another  word  I  '11  smash  you, 
sheriff  or  no  sheriff." 

Waite  glared  at  him. 

"  You  old  fool,"  he  snorted,  "  what  have  you  got  to 
do  with  this?  " 

"  I  've  got  this  to  do  with  It,  you  '11  find  —  the  woman 
Is  to  be  treated  with  respect  or  I  '11  blow  your  damned 
obstinate  head  off." 

The  sheriff  laid  his  hand  on  Waite's  shoulder. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  firmly,  "  this  is  no  way  to  get  at 
it.  We  want  to  know  certain  facts,  and  then  we  can 
proceed  lawfully.     Let  me  question  the  woman." 

The  two  older  men  still  faced  one  another  belliger- 
ently, but  Keith  saw  Christie  draw  the  doctor  back 
from  between  her  and  the  sheriff. 

"  You  may  ask  me  anything  you  please,"  she  an- 
nounced, quietly.  *'  I  am  sure  these  gentlemen  will  not 
fight  here  In  my  room." 

"  Very  well.  Miss  Maclaire.  It  will  require  only  a 
moment.  How  long  have  you  known  this  man 
Hawley?" 

"  Merely  a  few  days  —  since  I  arrived  In  Sheridan." 

"  But  you  were  In  communication  with  him  before 
that?" 

The  pleasant  voice  and  quiet  demeanor  of  the  sheriff 
seemed  to  yield  the  girl  confidence  and  courage. 


288  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  Yes,  he  had  written  me  two  or  three  letters." 

"  You  met  him  here  then  by  appointment?  " 

"  He  was  to  come  to  Sheridan,  and  explain  to  me 
more  fully  what  his  letters  had  only  hinted  at." 

"  You  possessed  no  previous  knowledge  of  his  pur- 
pose? " 

"  Only  the  barest  outline  —  details  were  given  me 
later." 

"  Will  you  tell  us  briefly  exactly  what  Hawley  told 
you?" 

The  girl's  bewildered  eyes  wandered  from  face  to 
face,  then  returned  to  the  waiting  sheriff. 

"  May  —  may  I  sit  down?  "  she  asked. 

"  Most  certainly;  and  don't  be  afraid,  for  really  we 
wish  to  be  your  friends." 

She  sank  down  Into  the  chair,  and  even  Keith  could 
see  how  her  slender  form  trembled.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment's silence. 

"  Believe  me,  gentlemen,"  she  began,  falterlngly,  "  If 
there  is  any  fraud,  any  conspiracy,  I  have  borne  no 
conscious  part  In  it.  Mr.  Hawley  came  to  me  saying  a 
dying  man  had  left  with  him  certain  papers,  naming 
one,  Phyllis  Gale,  as  heiress  to  a  very  large  estate  In 
North  Carolina,  left  by  her  grandfather  in  trust.  He 
said  the  girl  had  been  taken  West,  when  scarcely  two 


IN  CHRISTIE'S  ROOM  289 

years  old,  by  her  father  in  a  fit  of  drunken  rage,  and 
then  deserted  by  him  in  St.  Louis," 

"  You  —  you  saw  the  papers?  "     Waite  broke  in. 

"  Yes,  those  that  Hawley  had;  he  gave  them  to  me 
to  keep  for  him."  She  crossed  to  her  trunk,  and  came 
back,  a  manilla  envelope  In  her  hand.  Waite  opened 
It  hastily,  running  his  eyes  over  the  contents. 

"The  Infernal  scoundrel!"  he  exclaimed,  hotly. 
"  These  were  stolen  from  me  at  Carson  City." 

"  Let  me  see  them."  The  sheriff  ran  them  over, 
merely  glancing  at  the  endorsements. 

"  Just  as  you  represented,  Waite,"  he  said,  slowly. 
"  A  copy  of  the  will,  your  commission  as  guardian,  and 
memoranda  of  identification.  Well,  Miss  Maclaire, 
how  did  you  happen  to  be  so  easily  convinced  that  you 
were  the  lost  girl?  " 

"  Mr.  Hawley  brought  me  a  picture  which  he  said 
was  of  this  girl's  half-sister;  the  resemblance  was  most 
startling.  This,  with  the  fact  that  I  have  never  known 
either  father  or  mother  or  my  real  name,  and  that  my 
earlier  life  was  passed  in  St.  Louis,  sufficed  to  make 
me  believe  he  must  be  right." 

"  You  —  you  — "  Waite  choked,  leaning  forward. 
"  You  don't  know  your  real  name?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  her  lips  barely  forming  the 
19 


290  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

words.     "  The  woman  who  brought  me  up  never  told 
me. 

"  Who  —  who  was  the  woman?  " 

"A  Mrs.  Raymond  —  Sue  Raymond  —  she  was  on 
the  stage,  and  died  In  Texas  —  San  Antonio,  I  think." 

Waite  swore  audibly,  his  eyes  never  once  deserting  the 
girl's  face. 

"  Hawley  told  you  to  say  that?  " 

"  No,  he  did  not,"  she  protested  warmly.  "  It  was 
never  even  mentioned  between  us  —  at  least,  not  Sue 
Raymond's  name.    What  difference  can  that  make?  " 

He  stepped  forward,  one  hand  flung  out,  and  Fair- 
bain  sprang  instantly  between  them,  mistaking  the 
action. 

"  Hands  off  there,  Walte,"  he  commanded,  sternly. 
"  Whatever  she  says  goes." 

"  You  blundering  old  idiot,"  the  other  exploded. 
"  I  'm  not  going  to  hurt  her;  stand  aside,  will  you!  " 

He  reached  the  startled  girl,  thrust  aside  the  dark 
hair  combed  low  over  the  neck,  swung  her  about  toward 
the  light,  and  stared  at  a  birthmark  behind  her  ear. 
No  one  spoke,  old  Waite  seemingly  stricken  dumb,  the 
woman  shrinking  away  from  him  as  though  she  feared 
he  was  crazed. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  the  sheriff,  sternly. 
Slowly  Waite  turned  about  and  faced  him,  running 


IN  CHRISTIE'S  ROOM  291 

the  sleeve  of  his  coat  across  his  eyes.  He  appeared 
dazed,  confounded. 

"  My  God,  it 's  all  right,"  he  said,  with  a  choke  in 
the  throat.     "  She  's  —  she  's  the  girl." 

Christie  stared  at  him,  her  lips  parted,  unable  to 
grasp  what  it  all  meant. 

"  You  mean  I  —  I  am  actually  Phyllis  Gale?  That 
—  that  there  is  no  mistake?  " 

He  nodded,  not  yet  able  to  put  it  more  clearly  into 
words.  She  swayed  as  though  about  to  faint,  and 
Fairbain  caught  her,  but  she  slipped  through  his  arms, 
and  fell  upon  her  knees,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands 
upon  the  chair. 

"Oh,  thank  God,"  she  sobbed,  "thank  God!  I 
know  who  I  am !     I  know  who  I  am !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE  SEARCH  FOR  THE  MISSING 

THE  note  of  unrestrained  joy  of  relief  in  the 
woman's  voice  rang  through  the  room,  stlUing  all 
else,  and  causing  those  who  heard  to  forget  for  an 
instant  the  sterner  purpose  of  their  gathering.  Fair- 
bain  bent  over  her,  like  a  fat  guardian  angel,  patting 
her  shoulder,  her  eyes  so  blurred  with  tears  as  to  be 
practically  sightless,  yet  still  turned  questioningly  upon 
Waite.  The  sheriff  was  first  to  recover  speech,  and 
a  sense  of  duty. 

"  Then  this  lets  Miss  Maclaire  out  of  the  conspiracy 
charge,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  but  it  does  n't  make  it  any 
brighter  for  Hawley  so  far  as  I  can  see  —  there  's  a 
robbery  charge  against  him  if  nothing  else.  Any  one 
here  know  where  the  fellow  is?  " 

For  a  moment  no  one  answered,  although  Keith  took 
a  step  forward,  reminded  instantly  of  Hope's  predic- 
ament. Before  he  could  speak,  however,  Christie 
looked  up,  with  swift  gesture  pushing  back  her  loosened 
hair. 

"  He  was  to  have  met  me  at  the  theatre  to-night," 

292 


THE  SEARCH  293 

she  said,  her  voice  trembling,  "  but  was  not  there  when 
I  came  out;  he  —  he  said  he  had  important  news  for 
me." 

"  And  failed  to  show  up  —  did  he  send  no  mes- 
sage? " 

"  Doctor  Falrbain  was  waiting  for  me  Instead.  He 
said  that  Mr.  Hawley  was  called  suddenly  out  of 
town." 

The  eyes  of  the  sheriff  turned  to  Falrbain,  whose  face 
grew  redder  than  usual,  as  he  shifted  his  gaze  toward 
Keith. 

"  That  was  a  lie,"  he  confessed,  lamely.  "I  —  I 
was  told  to  say  that." 

"  Just  a  moment,  Sheriff,"  and  Keith  stood  before 
them,  his  voice  clear  and  convincing.  "  My  name  Is 
Keith,  and  I  have  unavoidably  been  mixed  up  In  this 
affair  from  the  beginning.  Just  now  I  can  relieve  the 
doctor  of  his  embarrassment.  Miss  Hope  Walte  and 
I  have  been  associated  together  In  an  effort  to  solve  this 
mystery.  This  evening,  taking  advantage  of  the  re- 
markable resemblance  existing  between  herself  and  Miss 
Maclaire,  Miss  Hope  decided  upon  a  mask  — " 

"  What 's  that,"  Walte  broke  In  excitedly.  "  Is 
Hope  here?  " 

"  Yes,  has  been  for  a  week;  we  've  had  all  the  police 
force  of  Sheridan  hunting  you." 


294  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

The  old  man  stared  at  the  speaker,  open-mouthed, 
and  muttered  something  about  Fort  Hays,  but  Keith, 
paying  little  attention  to  him,  hurried  on  with  his  story. 

"  As  I  say,  she  decided  upon  Impersonating  Christie 
here,  hoping  In  this  way  to  learn  more  regarding 
Hawley's  plans.  We  had  discovered  that  the  two 
were  to  meet  after  the  evening  performance  at  the 
stage  door  of  the  Trocadero.  I  escorted  Hope  there, 
dressed  as  near  like  Miss  Maclaire  as  possible,  and 
left  her  inside  the  vestibule  waiting  for  '  Black  Bart ' 
to  appear.  At  the  head  of  the  alley  I  ran  into  Fair- 
bain,  told  him  something  of  the  circumstances,  and  per- 
suaded him  to  escort  Miss  Christie  back  to  the  hotel. 
He  was  not  very  hard  to  persuade.  Well,  Hawley 
came,  and  Hope  met  him;  they  went  out  of  the  alley- 
way together  arm  in  arm,  talking  pleasantly,  and 
turned  this  way  toward  the  hotel.  The  doctor  and  I 
both  saw  and  heard  them.  I  was  delayed  not  to  exceed 
two  minutes,  speaking  a  final  word  to  Falrbain,  and 
when  I  reached  the  street  they  had  disappeared.  I  have 
hunted  them  ever^'where  without  finding  a  trace  —  I 
have  even  been  through  the  resorts.  She  has  not  re- 
turned to  the  hotel,  and  I  burst  in  upon  you  here  hoping 
that  Miss  Maclaire  might  have  some  information." 

She  shook  her  head,  and  Waite,  glaring  Impotently 
at  the  two  of  them,  swore  sharply. 


THE  SEARCH  295 

"  Good  God,  man !  my  girl !  Hope,  alone  with  that 
damn  villain.  Come  on,  Sheriff;  we  Ve  got  to  find  her. 
Wait  though  I  "  and  he  strode  almost  menacingly  across 
the  room.  "  First,  I  want  to  know  who  the  devil  you 
are?" 

Keith  straightened  up,  looking  directly  into  the  fierce 
questioning  eyes. 

'*  I  have  told  you  my  name  —  Jack  Keith,"  he  re- 
plied, quietly.  '*  Doctor  Fairbain  knows  something  of 
me,  but  for  your  further  information  I  will  add  that 
when  we  met  before  I  was  Captain  Keith,  Third  Vir- 
ginia Cavalry,  and  bearing  despatches  from  Longstreet 
to  Stonewall  Jackson." 

The  gruff  old  soldier,  half-crazed  by  the  news 
of  his  daughter's  peril,  the  gleam  of  his  eyes  still 
revealing  uncontrolled  temper,  stared  at  the 
younger  face  fronting  him;  then  slowly  he  held 
out  his  hand. 

"  Keith  —  Keith,"  he  repeated,  as  though  bringing 
back  the  name  with  an  effort.  "  By  God,  that 's  so  — 
old  Jefferson  Keith's  boy  —  killed  at  Antietam.  And 
you  know  Hope  ?  " 

*'Yes,  General." 

He  looked  about  as  though  dazed,  and  the  sheriff 
broke  in  not  unkindly, 

"  Well,  Waite,  if  we  are  going  to  search  for  your 


296  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

daughter  we  better  be  at  it.  Come  on,  all  of  you ;  Miss 
Maclaire  will  be  safe  enough  here  alone." 

He  took  hold  of  Keith's  arm,  questioning  him  briefly 
as  they  passed  down  the  hall.  On  the  stairs  the  lat- 
ter took  his  turn,  still  confused  by  what  he  had  just 
heard. 

"  Who  is  Miss  Maclaire?  "  he  asked. 

"  Phyllis  Gale." 

"Of  course,  but  who  is  Phyllis  Gale?  What  has 
she  to  do  with  General  Waite?  His  daughter  has  told 
me  she  never  heard  of  any  one  by  that  name." 

*'  Well,  Keith,  the  old  man  has  never  told  me  very 
much;  he  's  pretty  close-mouthed,  except  for  swearing, 
but  I  've  read  his  papers,  and  picked  up  a  point  or 
two.  I  reckon  the  daughter,  Miss  Hope,  maybe  never 
heard  a  word  about  it,  but  the  boy  —  the  one  that 
was  shot  —  must  have  stumbled  onto  the  story  and 
repeated  it  to  Hawley.  That 's  what  set  that  fellow 
going.  It  seems  Mrs.  Waite's  maiden  name  was  Pler- 
pont,  and  when  she  was  seventeen  years  old  she  was 
married  to  the  son  of  a  rich  North  Carolina  planter. 
The  fellow  was  a  drunken,  dissolute  good-for-nothing. 
They  had  a  daughter  born  —  this  Phyllis  —  and  when 
the  child  was  three  years  old  her  father,  in  a  fit  of 
drunken  rage,  ran  away,  and  to  spite  his  wife  took 
the   little   girl   with   him.     All   efforts   to   trace   them 


THE  SEARCH  297 

failed,  and  the  mother  finally  secured  a  divorce  and, 
two  years  later,  married  Willis  Waite.  Waite,  of 
course,  knew  these  facts,  but  probably  they  were  never 
told  to  the  children.  When  the  father  of  Mrs.  Waite's 
first  husband  died,  he  left  all  his  large  property  to  his 
grandchild,  providing  she  could  be  found  and  identi- 
fied within  a  certain  time,  failing  which  the  property  was 
to  be  distributed  among  certain  designated  charities. 
Waite  was  named  sole  administrator.  Well,  the  old 
man  took  as  much  interest  in  it  as  though  It  was  his 
own  girl,  but  made  mighty  little  progress.  He  did  dis- 
cover that  the  father  had  taken  the  child  to  St.  Louis 
and  left  her  there  with  a  woman  named  Raymond,  but 
after  the  woman  died  the  girl  completely  disappeared." 

"  Then  Miss  Maclaire  Is  Hope  Waite's  half- 
sister?  " 

"  That 's  the  way  It  looks  now." 

"  And  Hawley  merely  happened  to  stumble  on  to  the 
right  party?  " 

"Sure;  It's  clear  enough  how  that  came  about. 
The  boy  told  him  about  the  lost  heiress  his  father  was 
searching  after,  and  showed  him  his  sister's  picture. 
'  Black  Bart '  Instantly  recognized  her  resemblance  to 
Christie  Maclaire,  and  thought  he  saw  a  good  chance 
for  some  easy  money.  He  needed  the  papers,  however, 
to  ascertain  exactly  the  terms  of  the  will,   and  what 


298  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

would  be  necessary  for  the  Identification.  He  never  in- 
tended to  go  into  court,  but  hoped  to  either  get  Waite 
out  of  the  way,  or  else  convince  him  that  Christie  was 
the  girl,  relying  on  her  gratitude  for  his  profits.  When 
Waite  played  into  his  hands  by  coming  to  Carson  City, 
the  chance  was  too  good  to  be  lost.  I  'm  not  sure  he 
meant  to  kill  him,  but  he  did  mean  to  have  those  papers 
at  any  cost.  Probably  you  know  the  rest  —  the  girl 
was  easy,  because  she  was  so  ignorant  of  her  parentage, 
and  nothing  prevented  Hawley  from  winning  except 
that  Waite  got  mad  and  decided  to  fight.  That  knocked 
over  the  whole  thing." 

They  were  outside  now,  and  the  first  touch  of  the 
cool  night  air,  the  first  glance  up  and  down  the  noisy 
street,  brought  Keith  to  himself,  his  mind  ready  to 
grapple  with  the  problem  of  Hope's  disappearance.  It 
seemed  to  him  he  had  already  looked  everywhere,  yet 
there  was  nothing  to  do  except  to  continue  the  search, 
only  more  systematically.  The  sheriff  assumed  con- 
trol —  clear  headed,  and  accustomed  to  that  sort  of 
thing  —  calling  in  Hickock  and  his  deputies  to  assist, 
and  fairly  combing  the  town  from  one  end  to  the 
other.  Not  a  rat  could  have  slipped  unobserved 
through  the  net  he  dragged  down  that  long  street,  or 
its  intersecting  alleys  —  but  it  was  without  result;  no- 


THE  SEARCH  299 

where  was  there  found  a  trace  of  either  the  gambler  or 
his  companion. 

They  dug  into  saloons,  bagnios,  dance-halls,  search- 
ing back  rooms  and  questioning  inmates;  they  routed 
out  every  occupant  of  the  hotel,  invaded  boarding 
houses,  and  explored  shacks  and  tents,  indifferent  to 
the  protests  of  those  disturbed, —  but  without  result. 
They  found  several  who  knew  Hawley,  others  who 
had  seen  the  two  together  passing  by  the  lighted 
windows  of  the  Trocadero,  but  beyond  that  —  noth- 
ing. Convinced,  at  last,  that  the  parties  sought  were 
not  alive  in  Sheridan,  and  beginning  to  fear  the  worst, 
the  searchers  separated,  and  began  spreading  forth  over 
the  black  surrounding  prairie,  and  by  the  light  of 
lanterns  seeking  any  semblance  of  trail.  There  was 
no  lack  of  volunteers  for  this  work,  but  it  was  daylight 
before  the  slightest  clue  presented  itself.  Keith,  with 
the  sheriff  and  two  or  three  others,  had  groped  their 
way  outward  until,  with  the  first  flush  of  dawn,  they 
found  themselves  at  the  opening  of  a  small  rocky  ra- 
vine, near  the  foot  of  "  Boots  Hill."  Peering  down 
into  its  still  shadowed  depths,  they  discerned  what  ap- 
peared like  a  body  lying  there  motionless.  Keith 
sprang  down  beside  it,  and  turned  the  rigid  form  over 
until  the  dead  face  was  revealed  in  the  wan  light  — 


300  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

It  was  that  of  the  red  moustached  Scott.     He  staggered 
back  at  the  recognition,  barely  able  to  ejaculate. 

"  Here,  Sheriff !     This  Is  one  of  Hawley's  men !  " 

The  sheriff  was  bending  instantly  above  the  corpse, 
searching  for  the  truth. 

"  You  know  the  fellow  ?  " 
"  Yes,  his  name  was  Scott." 

"  Well,  he  's  been  dead  some  hours,  at  least  six  I 
should  say;  shot  just  above  the  eye,  and  good  Heavens! 
look  here,  Keith,  at  the  size  of  this  bullet  wound;  that 's 
no  man's  gun  In  this  country  —  no  more  than  a  '  32  ' 
I  'd  say." 

"  Miss  Waite  had  a  small  revolver.  She  must  have 
shot  the  fellow.  But  why  did  they  leave  the  body  here 
to  be  discovered?  " 

The  sheriff  arose  to  his  feet,  prowling  about  In  the 
brightening  glow  of  the  dawn. 

"  They  were  In  a  hurry  to  get  away,  and  knew  he 
would  n't  be  found  before  morning.  A  six  hours'  start 
means  a  good  deal.  They  did  drag  him  back  out  of 
sight  —  look  here.  This  was  where  the  struggle  took 
place,  and  here  Is  where  the  man  fell,"  tracing  it  out 
upon  the  ground.  "  The  girl  put  up  a  stiff  fight,  too 
—  see  where  they  dragged  her  up  the  path.  From 
the  footprints  there  must  have  been  half  a  dozen  In 


THE  SEARCH  301 

the  party.  Get  back  out  of  the  way,  Sims,  while  I 
follow  their  trail." 

It  was  plain  enough,  now  they  had  daylight  to 
assist  them,  and  led  around  the  edge  of  the  hill.  A 
hundred  feet  away  they  came  to  where  horses  had  been 
standing,  the  trampled  sod  evidencing  they  must  have 
been  there  for  some  considerable  time.  Keith  and 
the  sheriff  circled  out  until  they  finally  struck  the  trail 
of  the  party,  which  led  forth  southwest  across  the 
prairie. 

**  Seven  horses,  one  being  led  light,"  said  the  former. 
"  That  was  Scott's,  probably." 

"  That 's  the  whole  story,"  replied  the  sheriff,  star- 
ing off  toward  the  bare  horizon,  "  and  the  cusses  have 
at  least  six  hours  the  start  with  fresh  horses,"  He 
turned  around.  "  Well,  boys,  that  takes  'em  out  of 
my  baliwick,  I  reckon.  Some  of  the  rest  of  you  will 
have  to  run  that  gang  down." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

FAIRBAIN  AND  CHRISTIE 

DR.  FAIRBAIN  had  originally  joined  the  search- 
ing party,  fully  as  eager  as  Keith  himself  to  run 
down  the  renegade  Hawley,  but  after  an  hour  of  result- 
less  effort,  his  entire  thought  shifted  to  the  woman  they 
had  left  alone  at  the  hotel.  He  could  not,  as  yet,  fully 
grasp  the  situation,  but  he  remained  loyal  to  the  one 
overpowering  truth  that  he  loved  Christie  Maclalre. 
Fairbaln's  nature  was  rough,  original,  yet  loyal  to  the 
core.  He  had  lived  all  his  life  long  In  army  camps, 
and  upon  the  frontier,  and  his  code  of  honor  was  ex- 
tremely simple.  It  never  once  occurred  to  him  that 
Christie's  profession  was  not  of  the  highest,  or  that  her 
life  and  associations  In  any  way  unfitted  her  for  the 
future.  To  his  mind  she  was  the  one  and  only  woman. 
His  last  memory  of  her,  as  the  little  party  of  men  filed 
out  of  that  room,  haunted  him  until  he  finally  dropped 
out  of  the  search,  and  drifted  back  toward  the  hotel. 

It  was  a  late  hour,  yet  it  was  hardly  likely  the  woman 
had  retired.  Her  excitement,  her  interest  in  the  pur- 
suit, would  surely  prevent  that;  moreover,  he  was  cer- 

302 


FAIRBAIN  AND  CHRISTIE  303 

tain  he  saw  a  light  still  burning  in  her  room,  as  he 
looked  up  from  the  black  street  below.  Nevertheless 
he  hesitated,  uncertain  of  his  reception.  Bluff,  em- 
phatic, never  afraid  to  face  a  man  in  his  life,  his  heart 
now  beat  fiercely  as  he  endeavored  to  muster  the  neces- 
sary courage.  Far  down  the  dark  street  some  roysterer 
fired  a  shot,  and  sudden  fear  lest  he  might  be  sought 
after  professionally  sent  the  doctor  hurriedly  within, 
and  up  the  stairs.  He  stood,  just  outside  her  door, 
quaking  like  a  child,  the  perspiration  beading  his  fore- 
head, but  a  light  streamed  through  the  transom,  and  he 
could  plainly  hear  movements  within.  At  last,  in  a 
sudden  spasm  of  courage,  he  knocked  softly.  Even  in 
that  noisy  spot  she  heard  instantly,  opening  the  door 
without  hesitation,  and  standing  fully  dressed  within. 
She  was  no  longer  a  discouraged,  sobbing  girl,  but  an 
aroused,  intent  woman,  Into  whose  pathetic,  lonely  life 
there  had  come  a  new  hope.  She  appeared  younger, 
fairer,  with  the  light  shimmering  In  her  hair  and  her 
eyes  smiling  welcome. 

"  Oh,  Doctor,"  and  her  hands  were  thrust  out  to- 
wards him,  "  I  am  glad  you  have  come.  Somehow, 
I  thought  you  would,  and  I  have  wanted  so  to  talk  to 
someone  —  to  you." 

"  To  me !  Do  you  really  mean  that.  Miss  Chris- 
tie?" 


304  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  Yes,  I  really  mean  that,  you  great  bear  of  a  man," 
and  the  girl  laughed  lightly,  dragging  him  into  the 
room,  and  closing  the  door.  "  Why,  who  else  could  I 
expect  to  come  to-night?  You  were  the  only  one  really 
good  to  me.  You  —  you  acted  as  if  you  believed  in  me 
all  the  time  — " 

"I  did,  Christie;  you  bet  I  did,"  broke  in  the  de- 
lighted doctor,  every  nerve  tingling.  "  I  'd  'a'  cleaned 
out  that  whole  gang  if  you  M  only  said  so,  but  I  reckon 
now  it  was  better  to  let  them  tell  all  they  knew.  It 
was  like  a  thunder  storm  clearing  the  atmosphere." 

"Oh,  it  was,  indeed!  Now  I  know  who  I  am  — 
who  I  am!  Isn't  that  simply  glorious?  Sit  down, 
Doctor  Fairbain,  there  in  the  big  chair  where  I  can  see 
your  face.  I  want  to  talk,  talk,  talk;  I  want  to  ask 
questions,  a  thousand  questions ;  but  it  would  n't  do  any 
good  to  ask  them  of  you,  would  it?  You  don't  know 
anything  about  my  family,  do  you?  " 

"  Not  very  much,  I  am  afraid,  only  that  you  have 
got  an  almighty  pretty  half-sister,"  admitted  the  man, 
emphatically,  "  and  old  Waite  possesses  the  vilest  tem- 
per ever  given  a  human  being.  He  's  no  blood  kin  to 
you,  though." 

"  No,  but  he  is  awfully  good  underneath,  isn't  he?  " 

*'  Got  a  heart  of  pure  gold,  old  Waite.     Why,  I  've 


FAIRBAIN  AND  CHRISTIE  305 

seen  him  cry  like  a  baby  over  one  of  his  men  that  got 
hurt." 

"  Have  you  known  him,  then,  for  a  long  while?  " 

"  Ever  since  the  Spring  of  '61.  I  was  brigaded  with 
him  all  through  the  war,  and  had  to  cut  a  bullet  or  so 
out  of  his  hide  before  it  ended.  If  there  was  ever  a 
fight,  Willis  Waite  was  sure  to  get  his  share.  He  could 
swear  some  then,  but  he  's  improved  since,  and  I  reckon 
now  he  could  likely  claim  the  championship." 

"  Did  —  did  you  know  my  mother  also?  "  and  Chris- 
tie leaned  forward,  her  eyes  suddenly  grown  misty.  "  I 
have  n't  even  the  slightest  memory  of  her." 

The  doctor's  heart  was  tender,  and  he  was  swift  to 
respond,  reaching  forth  and  grasping  the  hand  nearest 
him.  He  had  made  love  before,  yet  somehow  this  was 
different;  he  felt  half  afraid  of  this  woman,  and  it  was 
a  new  sensation  altogether,  and  not  unpleasant. 

"  I  saw  her  often  enough  in  those  days,  but  not  since. 

She  was  frequently  in  camp,  a  very  sweet-faced  woman; 

you  have  her  eyes  and  hair,  as  I  remember.     Waite 

ought    to    have    recognized    you    at    first    sight.     By 

Heavens!  that  was  what  made  me  so  infernally  mad, 

the  mulish  obstinacy  of  the  old   fool.     Your  mother 

used  to  come  to  the  hospital  tent,  too;  one  of  the  best 

nurses  I  ever  saw.     I  thought  she  was  a  beauty  then, 
20 


3o6  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

but  she  's  some  older  by  this  time,"  he  paused  regret- 
fully.    "  You  see,  I  'm  no  spring  chicken,  myself." 

Her  eyes  were  upon  his  face,  a  slight  flush  showing 
in  either  cheek,  and  she  made  no  effort  to  withdraw  her 
Imprisoned  hand. 

"  You  are  just  a  nice  age,"  with  firm  conviction. 
"  Boys  are  tiresome,  and  I  think  a  little  gray  in  the  hair 
is  an  improvement.  Oh,  you  must  n't  imagine  I  say 
this  just  to  please  you  —  I  have  always  thought  so, 
since  —  well,  since  I  grew  up.  Besides,  fleshy  men  gen- 
erally look  young,  because  they  are  so  good  natured, 
perhaps.     How  old  are  you.  Doctor?  " 

"  It  is  n't  the  gray  hairs  I  mind,  either,"  he  admitted 
hesitatingly,  "  but  I  'm  too  darned  bald-headed.  Oh,  I 
ain't  so  old,  for  I  was  only  thirty-five  when  the  war 
broke  out.  I  was  so  thin  then  I  could  hardly  cast  a 
shadow.  I  've  changed  some  since,"  casting  his  eyes 
admiringly  downward,  "  and  got  quite  a  figure.  I  was 
forty-three  last  month." 

"  That  is  n't  old;  that 's  just  right." 

"  I  've  been  afraid  you  looked  on  me  as  being  an  old 
fogy!" 

"  I  should  say  not,"  indignantly.  "  Why  should  you 
ever  think  that?  " 

"  Well,  there  were  so  many  young  fellows  hanging 
about." 


FAIRBAIN  AND  CHRISTIE  307 

"Who?" 

"  Oh,  Keith,  and  Hawley,  and  that  bunch  of  officers 
from  the  fort ;  you  never  had  any  time  to  give  me." 

She  laughed  again,  her  fingers  tightening  in  their 
clasp  on  his  hand. 

"Why,  how  foolish;  Hawley  is  older  than  you  are, 
and  I  was  only  playing  with  Keith.  Surely  you  must 
know  that  now.  And  as  to  the  officers,  they  were  just 
fun.  You  see,  in  my  profession,  one  has  to  be  awfully 
nice  to  everybody." 

"But  didn't  you  really  care  for  Hawley?"  he  in- 
sisted, bluntly  probing  for  facts. 

"  He  —  he  interested  me,"  admitted  the  girl,  hesitat- 
ingly, her  eyes  darkening  with  sudden  anger.  "  He 
lied  and  I  believed  him  —  I  would  have  believed  any 
one  who  came  with  such  a  story.  Oh,  Dr.  Fairbain," 
and  she  clung  to  him  now  eagerly,  "  you  cannot  realize 
how  hungry  I  have  been  for  what  he  brought  me.  I 
wanted  so  to  know  the  truth  of  my  birth.  Oh,  I  hated 
this  life !  "  She  flung  her  disengaged  hand  into  the  air, 
with  a  gesture  expressive  of  disgust.  "  I  was  crazy  to 
get  away  from  it.  That  was  what  made  the  man  look 
good  to  me  —  he  —  he  promised  so  much.  You  will 
believe  me,  won't  you?  Oh,  you  must;  I  am  going 
to  make  you.  I  am  a  singer  in  music  halls;  I  was 
brought  up  to  that  life  from  a  little  girl,  and  of  course, 


3o8  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

I  know  what  you  Western  men  think  of  us  as  a  class. 
Hawley  showed  it  in  his  whole  manner  toward  me,  and 
I  resented  it;  just  for  that,  deep  down  in  my  heart,  I 
hated  him.  I  know  it  now,  now  that  I  really  under- 
stand his  purpose;  but  some  way,  when  I  was  with  him 
he  seemed  to  fascinate  me,  to  make  me  do  just  as  he 
willed.  But  you  have  never  been  that  way;  you  —  you 
have  acted  as  though  I  was  somebody  —  somebody  nice, 
and  not  just  a  music-hall  singer.  Perhaps  it 's  just  your 
way,  and  maybe,  deep  down  you  don't  think  I  'm  any 
better  than  the  others  do,  but  —  but  I  want  you  to  think 
I  am,  and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  the  truth,  and  you 
must  believe  me  —  I  am  a  good  girl." 

"Great  God!  of  course  you  are,"  he  blurted  out. 
"Don't  you  suppose  I  know?  That  isn't  what  has 
been  bothering  me,  lassie.  Why,  I  'd  'a'  fought  any 
buck  who  'd  'a'  sneered  at  you.  What  I  wanted  to 
know  was,  whether  or  not  you  really  cared  for  any  of 
those  duffers.     Can  you  tell  me  that,  Christie?" 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  face,  her  lips  parted. 

"  I  can  answer  any  thing  you  ask." 

"  And  you  do  not  care  for  them?  " 

"  No." 

He  drew  his  breath  sharply,  his  round  face  rosy. 

"  Then  you  have  got  to  listen  to  me,  for  I  'm  deadly 
in  earnest.     I  'm  an  old,  rough,  bald-headed  fool  that 


FAIRBAIN  AND  CHRISTIE  309 

don't  know  much  about  women, —  I  never  thought  be- 
fore I  'd  ever  want  to, —  but  you  can  bet  on  one  thing, 
I  'm  square.  Anybody  in  this  town  will  tell  you  I  'm 
square.  They  '11  tell  you  that  whatever  I  say  goes. 
I  've  never  run  around  much  with  women ;  somehow  I 
never  exactly  liked  the  kind  I  've  come  up  against,  and 
maybe  they  did  n't  feel  any  particular  interest  in  me.  I 
did  n't  cut  much  shine  as  a  ladies'  man,  but,  I  reckon 
now,  it 's  only  because  the  right  one  had  n't  happened 
along.  She  is  here  now,  though,  all  right,  and  I  knew 
it  the  very  first  time  I  set  eyes  on  her.  Oh,  you  ropedl 
and  tied  me  all  right  the  first  throw.  Maybe  I  did  get 
you  and  that  half-sister  mixed  up  a  bit,  but  just  the  same 
you  were  the  one  I  really  wanted.  Hope's  all  right; 
she  's  a  mighty  fine  girl,  but  you  are  the  one  for  me, 
Christie.  Could  you  —  could  you  care  for  such  a  duf- 
fer as  I  am?  " 

Her  lips  were  smiling  and  so  were  her  eyes,  but  it  was 
a  pleading  smile. 

"I  —  I  don't  think  it  would  be  so  very  hard,"  she 
admitted,  "  not  if  you  really  wanted  me  to." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean  —  that  I  love  you, —  wish 
you  to  be  my  wife?  " 

"  I  supposed  that  was  it  —  that  —  that  you  wanted 
me. 

"  Yes,  and  —  and  you  will  love  me?  " 


310  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

Her  head  drooped  slowly,  so  slowly  he  did  not 
realize  the  significance  of  the  action,  until  her  lips 
touched  his  hand. 

"I  do,"  she  said;  "you  are  the  best  man  in  the 
world." 

Fairbain  could  not  move,  could  not  seem  to  realize 
what  it  all  meant.  The  outcome  had  been  so  sudden, 
so  surprising,  that  all  power  of  expression  deserted  him. 
In  bewilderment  he  lifted  her  face,  and  looked  into  her 
eyes.  Perhaps  she  realized  —  with  the  swift  Intuition 
of  a  clever  woman  —  the  man's  perplexity,  for  Instantly 
she  led  his  mind  to  other  things. 

"  But  let  us  not  talk  of  ourselves  any  more,  to-night. 
There  is  so  much  I  wish  to  know;  so  much  that  ought 
to  be  done."  She  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  Why,  It  is 
almost  shameful  for  us  to  stay  here,  selfishly  happy, 
while  others  are  in  such  trouble.  Have  they  discovered 
Hope?" 

"  No;  we  scoured  the  whole  town  and  found  no  trace. 
Now  they  are  outside  on  the  prairie,  but  there  can  be 
little  chance  of  their  picking  up  a  trail  before  daylight." 

"AndHawley?" 

"  He  has  vanished  also;  without  doubt  they  are  to- 
gether. What  do  you  suppose  he  can  want  of  her? 
How  do  you  imagine  he  ever  got  her  to  go  with  him? 
She  is  n't  that  sort  of  a  girl." 


FAIRBAIN  AND  CHRISTIE  311 

She  shook  her  head,  shivering  a  httle. 

"  He  must  have  mistaken  her  for  me  —  perhaps  has 
not  even  yet  discovered  his  mistake.  But  what  it  all 
means,  or  how  he  gained  her  consent  to  go  with  him,  I 
cannot  conceive." 

She  stood  with  hands  clasped,  staring  out  the  window. 

"  There  is  a  little  light  showing  already,"  she  ex- 
claimed, pointing.  "  See,  yonder.  Oh,  I  trust  they 
will  find  her  alive,  and  unhurt.  That  man,  I  believe, 
Is  capable  of  any  crime.  But  could  n't  you  be  of  some 
help?  Why  should  you  remain  here  with  me?  I  am 
in  no  danger." 

"You  really  wish  me  to  go,  Christie?" 

"  Not  that  way  —  not  that  way,"  and  she  turned 
impulsively,  with  hands  outstretched.  "  Of  course  I 
want  you  here  with  me,  but  I  want  you  to  help  bring 
Hope  back." 

He  drew  her  to  him,  supremely  happy  now,  every 
feeling  of  embarrassment  lost  in  complete  certainty  of 
possession. 

"  And  I  will,"  he  said  solemnly.  "  Wherever  they 
may  have  gone  I  shall  follow.  I  am  going  now,  dear, 
and  when  I  come  back  you  '11  be  glad  to  see  me?  " 

*'  Shall  I?  "  her  eyes  uplifted  to  his  own,  and  swim- 
ming In  tears.  "  I  will  be  the  happiest  girl  In  all  the 
world,   I   reckon.     Oh,   what   a   night  this  has  been! 


312  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

What  a  wonderful  night!     It  has  given  me  a  name,  a 
mother,  and  the  man  I  love." 

He  kissed  her,  not  in  passion,  but  In  simple  tender- 
ness, and  as  he  turned  away  she  sank  upon  her  knees 
at  the  window,  with  head  bowed  upon  the  sill.  At  the 
door  he  paused,  and  looked  back,  and  she  turned,  and 
smiled  at  him.  Then  he  went  out,  and  she  knelt  there 
silently,  gazing  forth  Into  the  dawn,  her  eyes  blurred 
with  tears  —  facing  a  new  day,  and  a  new  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

FOLLOWING   THE    TRAIL 

THE  withdrawal  of  the  sheriff  merely  stimulated 
Keith  to  greater  activity.  It  was  clearly  evi- 
dent the  fugitives  were  endeavoring  with  all  rapidity 
possible  to  get  beyond  where  the  hand  of  law  could 
reach  them  —  their  trail  striking  directly  across  the 
plains  into  the  barren  southwest  was  proof  of  this  pur- 
pose. Yet  it  was  scarcely  likely  they  would  proceed 
very  far  in  that  direction,  as  such  a  course  would  bring 
them  straight  into  the  heart  of  the  Indian  country,  into 
greater  danger  than  that  from  which  they  fled. 
Keith  felt  no  doubt  that  Hawley  intended  making  for 
Carson  City,  where  he  could  securely  hide  the  girl, 
and  where  he  possessed  friends  to  rally  to  his  defence, 
even  an  influence  over  the  officers  of  the  law.  The 
one  thing  which  puzzled  him  most  was  the  man's  object 
in  attempting  so  desperate  a  venture.  Did  he  know 
his  prisoner  was  Hope  Waite?  or  did  he  still  suppose  he 
was  running  off  with  Christie  Maclaire?  Could  some 
rumor  of  Waite's  appeal  to  the  courts  have  reached 
the  gambler,   frightened  him,  and  caused  him  to  at- 

313 


314  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

tempt  this  desperate  effort  at  escape?  and  did  he  bear 
Miss  Maclaire  with  him,  hoping  thus  to  keep  her 
safely  concealed  until  he  was  better  prepared  to  come 
out  in  open  fight?  If  this  was  the  actual  state  of 
affairs  then  It  would  account  for  much  otherwise  hard 
to  explain.  The  actress  would  probably  not  have  been 
missed,  or,  at  least,  seriously  sought  after,  until  she 
failed  to  appear  at  the  theatre  the  following  evening. 
This  delay  would  give  the  fugitives  a  start  of  twenty 
hours,  or  even  more,  and  practically  assure  their  safety. 
Besides,  In  the  light  of  Walte's  application  to  the  sheriff 
for  assistance,  It  was  comparatively  easy  to  con- 
ceive of  a  valid  reason  why  Hawley  should  vanish, 
and  desire,  likewise,  to  take  Miss  Maclaire  with  him. 
But  there  was  no  apparent  occasion  for  his  forcible 
abduction  of  Hope.  Of  course,  he  might  have  done 
so  from  a  suddenly  aroused  fit  of  anger  at  some  dis- 
covery the  girl  had  made,  yet  everything  pointed  rather 
to  a  deliberate  plan.  Both  horses  and  men  were 
certainly  waiting  there  under  orders,  Hawley's  ad- 
herents In  charge,  and  every  arrangement  perfected 
in  advance.  Clearly  enough,  the  gambler  had  planned 
It  all  out  before  he  ever  went  to  the  Trocadero — 
no  doubt  the  completion  of  these  final  arrangements 
was  what  delayed  his  appearance  at  the  hotel.  If  this 
was  all  true,  then  It  must  have  been  Christie,  and  not 


FOLLOWING  THE  TRAIL  315 

Hope,  he  purposed  bearing  away  with  him,  and  the 
latter  was  merely  a  victim  of  her  masquerade. 

What  would  result  when  the  man  discovered  his 
mistake?  Such  a  discovery  could  not  be  delayed  long, 
although  the  girl  was  quick-witted,  and  would  surely 
realize  that  her  personal  safety  depended  upon  keep- 
ing up  the  deception  to  the  last  possible  moment. 
Yet  the  discovery  must  finally  occur,  and  there  was 
no  guessing  w^hat  form  Hawley's  rage  would  assume 
when  he  found  himself  baffled,  and  all  his  plans 
for  a  fortune  overturned.  Keith  fully  realized  Hope's 
peril,  and  his  own  helplessness  to  serve  her  in  this 
emergency  was  agony.  As  they  hurried  back  to  the 
town,  he  briefly  reviewed  these  conclusions  with  Waite 
and  Fairbain,  all  alike  agreeing  there  was  nothing 
remaining  for  them  to  do  except  to  take  up  the  trail. 
The  fugitives  had  already  gained  too  great  an  advan- 
tage to  be  overhauled,  but  they  might  be  traced  to 
whatever  point  they  were  heading  for.  In  spite  of  the 
start  being  so  far  to  the  west,  Keith  was  firmly  con- 
vinced that  their  destination  would  prove  to  be  Carson 
City. 

Procuring  horses  at  the  corral,  their  forces  aug- 
mented by  two  volunteers  —  both  men  of  experience 
—  Keith,  Waite,  Fairbain,  and  Neb  departed  without 
delay,  not  even  pausing  to  eat  but  taking  the  neces- 


3i6  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

sary  food  with  them.  The  sun  had  barely  risen  when 
they  took  up  the  trail,  Keith,  and  a  man  named  Bris- 
toe,  slightly  in  advance,  their  keen  eyes  marking  every 
slight  sign  left  for  guidance  across  the  bare  plain.  It 
was  a  comparatively  easy  trail  to  follow,  leading  di- 
rectly into  the  southwest,  the  pony  tracks  cutting  into 
the  sod  as  though  the  reckless  riders  had  bunched  to- 
gether, their  horses  trotting  rapidly.  Evidently  no  at- 
tempt had  been  made  at  concealment,  and  this  served  to 
convince  the  pursuers  that  Hawley  still  believed  his  cap- 
tive to  be  Miss  Maclaire,  and  that  her  disappearance 
would  not  be  suspected  until  after  nightfall.  In  that 
case  the  trail  could  not  be  discovered  before  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  and  with  such  a  start,  pursuit  would 
be  useless.  Tireless,  steadily,  scarcely  speaking  ex- 
cept upon  the  business  in  hand,  the  pursuers  pressed 
forward  at  an  easy  trot,  Keith,  in  spite  of  intense 
anxiety,  with  the  remembrance  of  old  cavalry  days  to 
guide  him,  insisting  upon  sparing  the  horses  as  much 
as  possible.  This  was  to  be  a  stern  chase  and  a  long 
one,  and  it  was  impossible  to  tell  when  they  could  pro- 
cure remounts.  The  constant  swerving  of  the  trail 
westward  seemed  to  shatter  his  earlier  theory,  and, 
brought  him  greater  uneasiness.  Finally  he  spoke  of  it 
to  the  old  plainsman  beside  him. 

"  What  do  suppose  those   fellows  are  heading  so 


\  Lit' 


Tireless,  steadily,  scarcely  speaking,  the  pursuers  pressed  forward  at 

an  easy  trot 


FOLLOWING  THE  TRAIL  317 

far  west  for,   Ben?    They  are  taking  a  big  risk  of 
running  into  hostiles." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  returned  the  other  gravely, 
lifting  his  eyes  to  the  far-off  sky  line.  "  I  reckon 
from  the  news  thet  come  in  last  night  from  Hays,  thar 
ain't  no  Injuns  a  rangin'  thet  way  jist  now.  They  're 
too  blame  busy  out  on  the  Arickaree.  Maybe  them 
fellers  heerd  the  same  story,  an'  thet 's  what  makes  'em 
so  bold." 
"What  story?     I've  heard  nothing." 

*'  Why,  it 's  like  this,  Cap,"  drawling  out  the  words, 
*'  leastways,  thet 's  how  it  come  inter  Sheridan;  '  Sandy  ' 
Forsythe  an'  his  outfit,  mostly  plainsmen,  started  a 
while  ago  across  Solomon  River  an'  down  Beaver 
Crick,  headin'  fer  Fort  Wallace.  Over  on  the  Aricka- 
ree, the  whole  damned  Injun  outfit  jumped  'em.  From 
all  I  heerd,  thar  must  a  bin  nigh  onto  three  thousan' 
o'  the  varmints,  droppin'  on  'em  all  at  oncet,  hell-bent- 
fer-election,  with  ol'  Roman  Nose  a  leadin'  'em.  It 
was  shore  a  good  fight,  fer  the  scouts  got  onto  an  is- 
land an'  stopped  the  bucks.  Two  of  the  fellers  got 
through  to  Wallace  yist'day,  an'  a  courier  brought 
the  news  in  ter  Hays.  The  Injuns  had  them  boys 
cooped  up  thar  fer  eight  days  before  them  fellers  got 
out,  an'  I  reckon  it  '11  be  two  or  three  days  more  'fore 
the  nigger  sogers  they  sent  out  ter  help  ever  git  thar. 


3i8  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

So  thai"  won't  be  no  Injuns  'long  this  route  we  're 
travellin',  fer  the  whole  kit  an'  caboodle  are  up  thar  yit 
after  '  Sandy.'  " 

"  And  you  suppose  Hawley  knew  about  this?  " 

"  Why  not,  Cap?  He  was  hangin'  'round  till  after 
ten  o'clock  las'  night,  an'  it  was  all  over  town  by  then. 
'Tain't  likely  he  's  got  an  outfit  'long  with  him  thet  's 
lost  any  Injuns.  I  don't  know  whar  they  're  bound, 
no  mor'n  you  do,  but  I  reckon  they  're  reasonably  sure 
they  've  got  a  clar  road." 

They  pulled  up  on  the  banks  of  a  small  stream  to 
water  their  horses,  and  ate  hastily.  The  trail  led  di- 
rectly across,  and  with  only  the  slightest  possible  delay 
they  forded  the  shallow  water,  and  mounted  the  op- 
posite bank.  A  hundred  yards  farther  on,  Bristoe 
reined  up  suddenly,  pointing  down  at  the  trail. 

"  One  boss  left  the  bunch  here,"  he  declared  posi- 
tively. Keith  swung  himself  out  of  the  saddle,  and 
bent  over  to  study  the  tracks.  There  was  no  doubt- 
ing the  evidence  —  a  single  horse  —  the  only  one  shod 
in  the  bunch  —  with  a  rider  on  its  back,  judging  from 
the  deep  imprint  of  the  hoofs,  had  swerved  sharply 
to  the  left  of  the  main  body,  heading  directly  into  the 
southeast.  The  plainsman  ran  forward  for  a  hundred 
yards  to  assure  himself  the  man  had  not  circled  back; 


FOLLOWING  THE  TRAIL  319 

at  that  point  the  animal  had  been  spurred  into  a  lope. 
Keith  rejoined  the  others. 

"  Must  have  been  about  daylight  they  reached  here," 
he  said,  picking  up 'his  dangling  rein,  and  looking  Into 
the  questioning  faces  about  him.  "  The  fellow  that 
rode  out  yonder  alone  was  heading  straight  toward 
Carson  City.  He  Is  going  for  fresh  horses,  I  figure  it, 
and  will  rejoin  the  bunch  some  place  down  on  the 
Arkansas.  The  others  intend  to  keep  farther  west, 
where  they  won't  be  seen.    What  do  you  say,  Ben?  " 

"  Thet 's  the  way  it  looms  up  ter  me,  Cap;  most 
likely  't  was  the  boss  himself." 

"  Well,  whoever  it  was,  the  girl  is  still  with  the 
others,  and  their  trail  is  the  easiest  to  follow.  We  '11 
keep  after  them." 

They  pushed  on  hour  after  hour,  as  long  as  day- 
light lasted  or  they  could  perceive  the  faintest  trace  to 
follow.  Already  half-convinced  that  he  knew  the  ulti- 
mate destination  of  the  fugitives,  Keith  yet  dare  not 
venture  on  pressing  forward  during  the  night,  thus 
possibly  losing  the  trail  and  being  compelled  to  re- 
trace their  steps.  It  was  better  to  proceed  slow  and 
sure.  Besides,  judging  from  the  condition  of  their  own 
horses,  the  pursued  would  be  compelled  to  halt  some- 
where to  rest  their  stock  also.     Their  trail  even  re- 


320  XEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

vealed  the  fact  that  they  were  already  travelling  far 
less  rapidly  than  at  first,  although  evidently  making 
every  effort  to  cover  the  greatest  possible  distance  be- 
fore stopping.  Just  as  the  dusk  shut  in  close  about 
them  they  rode  down  into  the  valley  of  Shawnee  Fork, 
and  discovered  signs  of  a  recent  camp  at  the  edge 
of  the  stream.  Here,  apparently,  judging  from  the 
camp-fire  ashes,  and  the  trampled  grass  along  the 
Fork,  the  party  must  have  halted  for  several  hours. 
By  lighting  matches  Keith  and  Bristoe  discerned  where 
some  among  them  had  laid  down  to  sleep,  and,  through 
various  signs,  decided  they  must  have  again  departed 
some  five  or  six  hours  previous,  one  of  their  horses 
limping  as  if  lame.  The  tired  pursuers  went  into  camp 
at  the  same  spot,  but  without  venturing  to  light  any  fire, 
merely  snatching  a  cold  bite,  and  dropping  off  to  sleep 
with  heads  pillowed  upon  their  saddles. 

They  were  upon  the  trail  again  with  the  first  dim- 
ness of  the  gray  dawn,  wading  the  waters  of  the 
Fork,  and  striking  forth  across  the  dull  level  of  brown 
prairie  and  white  alkali  toward  the  Arkansas.  They 
saw  nothing  all  day  moving  in  that  wide  vista  about 
them,  but  rode  steadily,  scarcely  exchanging  a  word, 
determined,  grim,  never  swerving  a  yard  from 
the  faint  trail.  The  pursued  were  moving  slower, 
hampered,  no  doubt,  by  their  lame  horse,  but  were  still 


FOLLOWING  THE  TRAIL  321 

well  in  advance.  Moreover,  the  strain  of  the  saddle 
was  already  beginning  to  tell  severely  on  Waite, 
weakened  somewhat  by  years,  and  the  pursuers  were 
compelled  to  halt  oftener  on  his  account.  The  end  of 
the  second  day  found  them  approaching  the  broken 
land  bordering  the  Arkansas  valley,  and  just  before 
nightfall  they  picked  up  a  lame  horse,  evidently  dis- 
carded by  the  party  ahead. 

By  this  time  Keith  had  reached  a  definite  decision  as 
to  his  course.  If  the  fugitives  received  a  fresh  relay 
of  horses  down  there  somewhere,  and  crossed  the 
Arkansas,  he  felt  positively  sure  as  to  their  destina- 
tion. But  it  would  be  useless  pushing  on  after  them 
in  the  present  shape  of  his  party  —  their  horses  worn 
out,  and  Waite  reeling  giddily  in  the  saddle.  If 
Hawley's  outfit  crossed  the  upper  ford,  toward  which 
they  were  evidently  heading,  and  struck  through  the 
sand  hills,  then  they  were  making  for  the  refuge  of 
that  lone  cabin  on  Salt  Fork.  Should  this  prove  true, 
then  it  was  probable  the  gambler  had  not  even  yet 
discovered  the  Identity  of  Hope,  for  if  he  had,  he 
would  scarcely  venture  upon  taking  her  there,  know- 
ing that  Keith  would  naturally  suspect  the  spot.  But 
Keith  would  not  be  likely  to  personally  tL  e  up  the 
trail  in  search  for  Christie  Maclaire.  It  must  have 
been  Hawley  then  who  had  left  the  party  and  ridden 


322  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

east,  and  up  to  that  time  he  had  not  found  out  his 
mistake.  Yet  if  he  brought  out  the  fresh  animals  the 
chances  were  that  Hope's  identity  would  be  revealed. 
Bristoe,  who  had  turned  aside  to  examine  the  straying 
horse,  came  trotting  up. 

"  Belonged  to  their  outfit  all  right,  Cap,"  he  reported, 
"  carries  the  double  cross  brand  and  that  shebang  is 
upon  the  Smoky;  saddle  galls  still  bleeding." 

Waite  was  now  suffering  so  acutely  they  were 
obliged  to  halt  before  gaining  sight  of  the  river,  find- 
ing, fortunately,  a  water-hole  fed  by  a  spring.  As 
soon  as  the  sick  man  could  be  made  comfortable,  Keith 
gave  to  the  others  his  conclusions,  and  listened  to  what 
they  had  to  say.  Bristoe  favored  clinging  to  the  trail 
even  though  they  must  travel  slowly,  but  Fairbain  in- 
sisted that  Waite  must  be  taken  to  some  town  where 
he  could  be  given  necessary  care.  Keith  finally  de- 
cided the  matter. 

"  None  can  be  more  anxious  to  reach  those  fellows 
than  I  am,"  he  declared,  "  but  I  know  that  country 
out  south,  and  we  '11  never  get  through  to  the  Salt 
Fork  without  fresh  horses.  Besides,  as  the  doctor  says, 
we  've  got  to  take  care  of  Waite.  If  we  find  things 
as  I  expect  we  '11  ride  for  Carson  City,  and  re- 
outfit  there.     What 's  more,  we  won't  lose  much  time 


FOLLOWING  THE  TRAIL  323 

—  it 's  a  shorter  ride  from  there  to  the  cabin  than  from 
here." 

By  morning  the  General  was  able  to  sit  his  saddle 
again,  and  leaving  him  with  Neb  to  follow  slowly, 
the  others  spurred  forward,  discovered  an  outlet 
through  the  bluff  into  the  valley,  and  crossed  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail.  It  was  not  easy  to  discover  where  those  in 
advance  had  passed  this  point,  but  they  found  evidence 
of  a  late  camp  in  a  little  grove  of  cottonwoods  beside 
the  river.  There  were  traces  of  two  trails  leading  to 
the  spot,  one  being  that  of  the  same  five  horses  they 
had  been  following  so  long,  the  other  not  so  easily  read, 
as  it  had  been  traversed  in  both  directions,  the  different 
hoof  marks  obliterating  each  other.  Bristoe,  creeping 
about  on  hands  and  knees,  studied  the  signs  with  the 
eyes  of  an  Indian. 

"  You  kin  see  the  diff'rence  yere  whar  the  ground 
is  soft.  Cap,"  he  said,  pointing  to  some  tracks  plainer 
than  the  others.  "  This  yere  boss  had  a  rider,  but  the 
rest  of  'em  was  led;  thet 's  why  they've  bungled  up 
ther  trail  so.  An'  it  wa'n't  ther  same  bunch  thet  went 
back  east  what  come  from  thar  —  see  thet  split  hoof! 
thar  ain't  no  split  hoof  p'inting  ther  other  way  —  but 
yere  is  the  mark  of  the  critter  thet  puts  her  foot  down 
so  fur  outside  thet  we  've  been  a  trailin'  from  Sheridan, 


324  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

an'  she  's  p'intlng  east,  an'  being  led.  Now,  let 's  see 
whar  the  bunch  went  from  yere  with  thet  split  hoof." 

This  was  not  so  easily  accomplished  owing  to  the 
nature  of  the  ground,  but  at  last  the  searchers  stumbled 
onto  tracks  close  in  under  the  bank,  and  one  of  these  re- 
vealed the  split  hoof. 

"  That  makes  it  clear,  Ben,"  exclaimed  Keith,  de- 
cidedly, staring  out  across  the  river  at  the  white  sand- 
hills. "  They  have  kept  in  the  edge  of  the  water, 
making  for  the  ford,  which  is  yonder  at  the  bend. 
They  are  out  in  the  sand  desert  by  this  time  riding 
for  the  Salt  Fork.  Whoever  he  was,  the  fellow  brought 
them  five  horses,  and  the  five  old  ones  were  taken  east 
again  on  the  trail.  The  girl  is  still  with  the  party, 
and  we  '11  go  into  Carson  City  and  reoutfit." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

AGAIN   AT   THE    CABIN 

^  I  ^HEY  were  two  weary  days  reaching  Carson  City, 
-■"  travelling  along  the  open  trail  yet  meeting  with 
no  one,  not  even  a  mail  coach  passing  them.  Evi- 
dently the  Indians  were  so  troublesome  as  to  interrupt 
all  traffic  with  Santa  Fe  and  the  more  western  forts. 
The  slowness  of  their  progress  was  on  account  of  the 
General,  whose  condition  became  worse  in  spite  of 
Fairbain's  assiduous  attentions.  With  no  medicine 
the  doctor  could  do  but  little  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of 
the  older  man,  although  he  declared  that  his  illness 
was  not  a  serious  one,  and  would  yield  quickly  to  proper 
medical  treatment.  They  constructed  a  rude  travois 
from  limbs  of  the  cottonwood,  and  securely  strapped 
him  thereon,  one  man  leading  the  horse,  while  the 
doctor  tramped  behind. 

Keith,  fretting  more  and  more  over  this  necessary 
delay,  and  now  obsessed  with  the  thought  that  Hawley 
must  have  rejoined  his  party  on  the  Arkansas  and 
gone  south  with  them,  finally  broke  away  from  the 
others  and  rode  ahead,  to  gather  together  the  neces- 

325 


326  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

sary  horses  and  supplies  in  advance  of  their  arrival. 
He  could  not  drive  from  his  mind  the  remembrance 
of  the  gambler's  attempted  familiarity  with  Hope,  when 
he  had  her,  as  he  then  supposed,  safe  in  his  power 
once  before  in  that  lonely  cabin  on  the  Salt  Fork. 
Now,  angry  with  baffled  ambition,  and  a  victim  of 
her  trickery,  there  was  no  guessing  to  what  extremes  the 
desperado  might  resort.  The  possibilities  of  such  a 
situation  made  the  slightest  delay  in  rescue  an  agony 
almost  unbearable.  Reaching  Carson  City,  and  per- 
fectly reckless  as  to  his  own  safety  there  from  arrest, 
the  plainsman  lost  no  time  in  perfecting  arrangements 
for  pushing  forward.  Horses  and  provisions  were 
procured,  and  he  very  fortunately  discovered  in  town 
two  cowboys  belonging  to  the  "  Bar  X  "  outfit,  their 
work  there  accomplished  and  about  ready  to  return  to 
the  ranch  on  the  Canadian,  who  gladly  allied  them- 
selves with  his  party,  looking  forward  to  the  pos- 
sibilities of  a  fight  with  keen  anticipation.  Keith  was 
more  than  ever  delighted  with  adding  these  to  his 
outfit,  when,  on  the  final  arrival  of  the  others,  the  extra 
man  brought  from  Sheridan  announced  that  he  had 
had  enough,  and  was  going  to  remain  there.  No 
efforts  made  revealed  any  knowledge  of  Hawley's  pres- 
ence in  Carson  City;  either  he  had  not  been  there,  or 
else  his  friends  were  very  carefully  concealing  the  fact. 


J 


AGAIN  AT  THE  CABIN  327 

The  utter  absence  of  any  trace,  however,  led  Keith  to 
believe  that  the  gambler  had  gone  elsewhere  —  prob- 
ably to  Fort  Larned  —  for  his  new  outfit,  and  this  be- 
lief left  him  more  fully  convinced  than  ever  of  the 
fellow's  efforts  to  conceal  his  trail. 

The  party  escorting  Waite  reached  the  town  in  the 
evening,  and  in  the  following  gray  dawn,  the  adven- 
turers forded  the  river,  and  mounted  on  fresh  horses 
and  fully  equipped,  headed  forth  into  the  sand  hills. 
The  little  company  now  consisted  of  Keith,  Fairbain, 
who,  in  spite  of  his  rotundity  of  form  had  proven  him- 
self hard  and  fit.  Neb,  having  charge  of  the  single  pack- 
horse,  the  scout  Bristoe,  and  the  two  cowboys  of  the 
"  Bar  X,"  rough,  wiry  fellows,  accustomed  to  exposure 
and  peril.  It  was  emphatically  a  fighting  outfit,  and  to 
be  trusted  in  emergency. 

They  followed  the  cattle  trail  south  toward  the  Salt 
Fork,  as  this  course  would  afford  them  a  camp  at  the 
only  water-hole  in  all  that  wide  desert  lying  between. 
With  this  certainty  of  water,  they  ventured  to  press 
their  animals  to  swifter  pace,  although  the  sand  made 
travelling  heavy,  and  the  trail  itself  was  scarcely  dis- 
cernible. It  was  a  hard,  wearisome  ride,  hour  after 
hour  through  the  same  dull,  dreary  landscape  of  deso- 
lation, the  hot,  remorseless  sun  beating  down  upon 
them,  reflecting  up  into  their  blistered  faces  from  the 


328  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

hot   surface   of   sand.     There   was   scarcely   a   breath 
of  air,  and  the  bodies  of  men  and  horses  were  bathed 
in  perspiration.     Not  a  cloud  hung  in  the  blue  sky;  no 
wing  of  a  bird  broke  the  monotony  of  distance,  no  liv- 
ing  animal   crept   across   the   blazing   surface   of   the 
desert.     Occasionally   a    distant   mirage    attracted   the 
eye,  making  the  dead  reality  even  more  horrible  by  its 
semblance  to  water,  yet  never  tempting  them  to  stray 
aside.     After  the  first  mile  conversation  ceased,   the 
men  riding  grimly,  silently  forward,  intent  only  on  cov- 
ering all  the  distance  possible.     Late  that  night  they 
camped  at  the  water-hole,  sleeping  as  best  they  could, 
scourged  by  the  chill  wind  which  swept  over  them  and 
lashed  grit  into  exposed  faces.     With  the  first  gray  of 
dawn  they  swung  stiffened  forms  into  the  saddles  and 
rode  on,  straight  as  the  crow  flies,  for  the  Salt  Fork. 
They  attained  that  stream  at  sundown,  gray  with  sand 
dust,   their   faces   streaked   from   perspiration,    feeling 
as  though  the  sun  rays  had  burned  their  brains,  with 
horses  fairly  reeling  under  them.     According  to  Keith's 
calculation  this  cattle-ford  must  be  fully  ten  miles  below 
where  the  cabin  sought  was  situated;  two  hours'  rest, 
with  water  and  food,  would  put  both  horses  and  men 
again  in  condition,  and  the  travelling  was  easier  along 
the  banks  of  the  Fork.     With  this  in  mind,  cinches  were 
loosened,  the  animals  turned  out  to  graze,  and  the  men. 


AGAIN  AT  THE  CABIN  329 

snatching  a  hasty  bite,  flung  themselves  wearily  on  the 
ground. 

All  but  Falrbain  were  asleep  when  Keith  aroused 
them  once  more,  a  little  before  nine,  unable  in  his  im- 
patience to  brook  longer  delay.  Within  ten  minutes 
horses  were  saddled,  weapons  looked  to  carefully,  and 
the  little  party  began  their  advance  through  the  dark- 
ness, moving  cautiously  over  the  uneven  ground,  assisted 
greatly  by  the  bright  desert  stars  gleaming  down  upon 
them  from  the  cloudless  sky  overhead.  The  distance 
proved  somewhat  less  than  had  been  anticipated,  and 
Keith's  watch  was  not  yet  at  eleven,  when  his  eyes  re- 
vealed the  fact  that  they  had  reached  the  near  vicinity 
of  the  lonely  Island  on  which  the  cabin  stood.  Reining 
in  his  horse  sharply,  he  swung  to  the  ground,  the  others 
instantly  following  his  example,  realizing  they  had 
reached  the  end  of  the  route.  Hands  instinctively  loos- 
ened revolvers  in  readiness  for  action,  the  younger  of 
the  "  Bar  X  "  men  whisthng  softly  in  an  effort  to  ap- 
pear unconcerned.  Keith,  with  a  gesture,  gathered 
them  more  closely  about  him. 

"  If  Hawley  is  here  himself,"  he  said  quietly,  watch- 
ing their  faces  in  the  starlight,  *'  he  will  certainly  have 
a  guard  set,  and  there  may  be  one  anyhow.  We  can't 
afford  to  take  chances,  for  there  will  be  five  men,  at 
least,  on  the  island,  and  possibly  several  more.     If  they 


330  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

are  looking  for  trouble  they  will  naturally  expect  it 
to  come  from  the  north  —  consequently  we  '11  make  our 
attack  from  the  opposite  direction,  and  creep  in  on  them 
under  the  shadow  of  the  corral.  The  first  thing  I  want 
to  do  is  to  locate  Miss  Walte  so  she  will  be  in  no  dan- 
ger of  getting  hurt  in  the  melee.  You  boys  hold  your 
fire,  until  I  let  loose  or  give  the  word.  Now,  Doctor, 
I  want  you  and  Neb  to  creep  up  this  bank  until  you  are 
directly  opposite  the  cabin  —  he  '11  know  the  spot  — 
and  lie  there  out  of  sight  until  we  begin  the  shooting. 
Then  both  sail  in  as  fast  as  you  can.  I  '11  take  Bristoe 
and  you  two  '  Bar  X  '  men  along  with  me,  and  when 
we  turn  loose  with  our  shooting  irons  you  can  all  reckon 
the  fight  is  on.     Any  of  you  got  questions  to  ask?  " 

No  one  said  anything,  the  silence  accented  by  the 
desert  wind  howling  mournfully  in  the  branches  of  a 
near-by  cottonwood. 

"  All  right  then,  boys,  don't  get  excited  and  go  off 
half  cocked;  be  easy  on  your  trigger  fingers.  Come 
along,  you  fellows  who  are  travelling  with  me." 

The  four  crossed  the  stream,  wading  to  their  waists 
in  the  water,  their  horses  left  bunched  on  the  south 
bank,  and  finally  crawled  out  into  a  bunch  of  mesquite. 
As  they  crept  along  through  the  darkness,  whatever 
doubts  Keith  might  have  previously  felt  regarding  the 


AGAIN  AT  THE  CABIN  331 

presence  on  the  Island  of  the  party  sought,  were  dis- 
sipated by  the  unmistakable  noise  made  by  numerous 
horses  in  the  corral.  Slowly,  testing  each  step  as  they 
advanced,  so  no  sound  should  betray  them,  the  four 
men  reached  the  shelter  of  the  stockade.  The  older 
of  the  "  Bar  X  "  men  lifted  himself  by  his  hands,  and 
peered  cautiously  over. 

"  Eight  bosses  In  thar,"  he  announced  soberly;  then 
turned  to  Keith.  "  Say,  Jack,  what  do  you  figure  this 
shebang  to  be,  anyhow  ?  You  don't  reckon  it 's  old 
Sanchez's  outfit,  do  yer?" 

"  Likely  as  not,  Joe,  though  I  never  saw  him  around 
here." 

Joe  filled  his  cheek  with  tobacco,  staring  about 
through  the  darkness, 

"  Wall,  if  that  ol'  cuss  is  yere  now  we'uns  is  sure 
in  fer  a  fight,"  he  commented  positively. 

They  rounded  the  corral  fence  on  hands  and  knees, 
crawled  into  a  bunch  of  bushes  somewhat  to  the  rear 
of  the  silent,  desolate-appearing  cabin,  and  lay  down 
flat  behind  a  pile  of  saddles,  from  which  position  they 
could  plainly  discern  the  rear  door.  There  was  no 
movement,  no  evidence  anywhere  that  a  living  soul  was 
about  the  place.  Keith  could  barely  distinguish  that 
it  was  Bristoe  lying  next  to  him. 


332  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  Had  their  camp  over  there  in  the  corner  of  the 
corral  when  I  was  here  before,"  he  said  in  a  whisper. 
"  Where  do  you  suppose  they  can  be  now?  " 

The  wary  scout  lifted  his  head,  sniffing  into  the  dark- 
ness like  a  pointer  dog. 

"  West  o'  ther  cabin  thar,  out  o'  ther  wind,  most 
likely.     I  smell  tobacco." 

Even  as  the  words  left  his  lips  a  man  came  saunter- 
ing slowly  around  the  eastern  corner,  his  outlines  barely 
visible,  but  the  red  glow  of  a  pipe  bowl  showing  plainly. 
He  stopped,  directly  facing  them,  yawning  sleepily,  and 
then  turned  the  other  corner.  Another  moment,  and 
they  distinctly  heard  a  voice: 

"Hustle  up  thar  now,  Manuel,  an'  turn  out;  it's 
your  watch;  wake  up,  damn  yer  —  maybe  that  '11  bring 
yer  ter  life." 

The  remedy  applied  to  the  sleeper  must  have  been 
efficacious,  as,  an  instant  later,  another  figure  slouched 
into  view,  the  new  arrival  rubbing  his  eyes  with  one 
hand,  the  other  clutching  a  short-barrelled  gun.  From 
the  high  peak  of  his  hat  it  was  evident  this  new  guard 
was  a  Mexican.  He  walked  to  the  corner,  glanced 
along  the  east  side  wall  toward  the  front  of  the  cabin, 
and  then,  apparently  satisfied  the  coast  was  clear,  started 
toward  the  stream,  shuffling  along  within  a  foot  of 
where  Keith  lay  flat  on  the  ground.     A  moment  later 


AGAIN  AT  THE  CABIN  333 

the  men  heard  him  splashing  softly  in  the  water,  and 
Keith  rolled  over,  his  lips  at  Bristoe's  ear. 

"  Slip  down  there,  Ben,"  he  whispered,  "  and  quiet 
that  fellow.  I  '11  find  out  how  many  are  on  the  west 
side.     Do  the  job  without  any  noise." 

He  waited  until  the  scout  had  disappeared  like  a 
snake,  not  even  a  rustling  leaf  telling  of  his  passage, 
and  then  silently  crept  forward  himself,  yet  with  less 
caution,  until  he  was  able  to  peer  about  the  corner  of 
the  cabin  and  dimly  distinguish  the  blanketed  forms 
of  several  men  lying  close  in  against  the  side  wall. 
They  rested  so  nearly  together  it  was  difficult  to  sep- 
arate them  in  that  darkness,  stars  giving  the  only  light, 
but  he  finally  determined  their  number  at  five.  Five; 
the  Mexican  would  make  six,  and  there  would  surely 
be  another  guard  posted  out  in  the  front  —  seven. 
But  there  were  eight  horses  down  there  in  the  corral. 
Then  the  eighth  man  —  Hawley,  without  doubt  — 
must  be  in  the  cabin.  At  the  thought  Keith's  teeth 
clinched,  and  he  had  to  struggle  to  control  his  passion. 
But  no;  that  would  never  do;  he  must  discover  first 
exactly  where  the  girl  was  located;  after  that  they  would 
attend  to  the  curs.  Before  creeping  back  to  the  others, 
he  made  quick  examination  along  the  rear  of  the  cabin, 
but  could  find  no  visible  point  of  weakness.  He  tried 
to  recall  from  memory  the  nature  of  the  lock  on  that 


334  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

back  door,  but  could  remember  nothing  except  an 
ordinary  wooden  latch.  If  he  could  insert  a  knife  into 
the  crack  that  might  very  easily  be  dislodged.  He 
drew  his  hunting  knife  for  the  attempt,  and,  first  glanc- 
ing about,  perceived  a  man  creeping  toward  him.  It 
proved  to  be  Bristoe. 

"  Fixed  the  greaser  all  right,  cap,  and  I  reckon  he  '11 
be  quiet  for  an  hour  or  two.  Look  whar  he  slashed 
me;  struck  a  pack  o'  playin'  keerds,  er  I  'd  a  got  my 
ticket."  The  front  of  his  blouse  was  cut  wide  open, 
and  Keith  thought  he  perceived  a  stain  of  blood. 

"  Pricked  you  as  it  was,  did  n't  he?  " 

"  Opened  the  skin.  Thought  the  cuss  had  give  up, 
an'  got  careless.     What 's  'round  to  the  west?  " 

Keith's  lips  closed,  his  hand  shutting  hard  on  the 
knife. 

"  Five,  and  another  out  In  front;  that  leaves  the 
eighth  man  Inside.  Bring  our  fellows  up  closer,  and 
post  them  where  they  can  cover  those  fellows  asleep, 
while  I  make  an  effort  at  breaking  in  here." 

Bristoe  crawled  back  like  a  snail,  and  confident  the 
others  would  do  their  part,  Keith  thrust  his  knife  blade 
deep  into  the  narrow  crack,  and  began  probing  after  the 
latch.  In  spite  of  all  caution  this  effort  caused  a  slight 
noise,  and  suddenly  he  started  back,  at  the  sound  of  a 
woman's  voice : 


AGAIN  AT  THE  CABIN  335 

"What  do  you  want?  I  am  armed,  and  will  fire 
through  the  door  if  you  do  not  go  away!  " 

His  heart  leaping  with  exultation,  Keith  put  his  lips 
close  to  the  crack. 

"  Hope,"  he  exclaimed  as  loudly  as  he  dared.  "  This 
is  Keith;  open  the  door." 

He  could  hear  a  little  smothered  cry  break  from  her 
lips,  and  then  the  sound  of  a  bar  being  hastily  removed. 
An  instant,  and  the  door  opened  silently,  just  wide 
enough  to  permit  her  slender  figure  to  slip  through. 
She  grasped  him  with  her  hands,  turning  his  face  to  the 
light  of  the  stars,  and  he  could  feel  her  form  tremble. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  would  come!  I  knew  you  would 
come !  "  she  sobbed,  the  words  barely  audible. 

The  man's  lips  set  firmly,  yet  he  held  her  close  to  him, 
begging  her  not  to  break  down  now. 

"  It 's  all  right,  little  girl,"  he  said  pleadingly, 
"  we  Ve  got  you  safe,  but  there  is  a  fight  to  be  at- 
tended to.  Come  with  me;  I  must  ask  you  a  question 
or  two." 

He  drew  her  back  into  the  fringe  of  bushes,  plac- 
ing her  safely  behind  the  stack  of  saddles.  She  was 
not  crying  any  more,  just  clinging  to  him,  as  though  she 
could  never  again  bear  to  let  him  go. 

"  Oh,  Jack,  it  is  so  good  just  to  feel  you  near  again." 

"  Yes,  dear,"  soothingly,   "  and  it  is  good  to  hear 


336  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

you  say  Jack,  but  tell  me  one  thing  —  is  any  one  else  in 
the  cabin?     Is  Hawley  here?  " 

"No,  no  I  He  left  us  early  the  first  morning.  I 
have  n't  either  seen  or  heard  of  him  since.  The  men 
have  left  me  alone  since  we  got  here;  I  have  had  the 
cabin  all  to  myself  until  to-night.  I  have  not  suffered, 
only  mentally  —  from  dread  of  what  they  intended  do- 
ing with  me  —  until  to-night.  Three  men  rode  in  here 
just  before  sundown  —  two  Mexicans  and  an  Indian. 
One  of  them  was  an  awful  looking  old  man,  with  a  scar 
on  his  cheek,  and  a  face  that  made  me  shudder.  He 
did  n't  see  me,  but  I  saw  him  through  the  window,  and 
he  had  such  strange  eyes.  All  the  men  acted  as  though 
they  were  afraid  of  him,  and  I  heard  him  say  he  did  n't 
care  what  Hawley's  orders  were,  he  was  going  to  sleep 
inside;  if  the  girl  did  n't  like  it  she  could  take  the  other 
room.  I  did  n't  know  what  to  do  —  oh,  I  was  so  afraid 
of  him;  but  what  he  said  gave  me  an  idea,  and  I  went 
into  the  back  room,  and  put  up  a  bar  across  the  door. 
When  he  came  in  he  tried  the  door;  then  he  spoke 
through  it,  but  I  never  answered;  and  finally  he  lay 
down  and  went  to  sleep.  I  sat  there  In  the  dark  so 
long,  and  when  I  heard  you  —  I  —  I  thought  it  must 
be  some  of  the  others." 

He  stroked  her  hair,  whispering  words  of  encourage- 
ment. 


AGAIN  AT  THE  CABIN  337 

"  That  Is  ail  done  with  now,  Hope,  and  we  '11  have 
those  fellows  at  our  mercy  in  another  half-hour.  But 
I  must  go  now  to  the  boys;  lie  down  here  behind  these 
saddles,  and  don't  move  until  I  come  for  you.  I  can 
trust  you  to  remain  right  here?  " 

"  Yes."  He  was  bending  over,  and  her  eyes  were 
upon  his  face.  Suddenly,  obeying  an  irresistible  im- 
pulse, he  clasped  her  to  him,  and  their  lips  met. 

"  Sweetheart,"  he  whispered  softly. 

He  could  not  hear  her  answer,  but  her  arms  were 
about  his  neck. 


22 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE    CABIN   TAKEN 

HIS  heart  beating  with  new  happiness,  yet  conscious 
of  the  stern  duty  still  confronting  him,  Keith 
joined  the  others,  giving  them,  in  a  whisper,  a  hurried 
account  of  Hope's  release  from  the  cabin,  and  of  what 
she  had  to  report. 

"  It 's  old  Juan  Sanchez  In  the  front  room,  boys," 
he  added  soberly,  "  and  there  is  ten  thousand  dollars 
reward  out  for  him,  dead  or  alive." 

Joe  of  the  "  Bar  X  "  drew  in  his  breath  sharply. 

"  It'll  sure  be  dead  then,"  he  muttered,  "  that  cuss 
will  never  be  got  no  other  way." 

They  went  at  it  in  the  grim  silent  manner  of  the 
West,  wasting  little  time,  iFeeling  no  mercy.  One  by 
one  the  unconscious  sleepers  were  aroused,  each  wak- 
ing to  find  a  steel  barrel  pressing  against  his  forehead, 
and  to  hear  a  stern  voice  say  ominously,  "  Not  a 
move,  Johnny ;  yes,  that 's  a  gun ;  now  get  up  quietly, 
and  step  out  here."  Resistance  was  useless,  and  the 
five,  rendered  weaponless,  were  herded  back  toward  the 
corral.     They  all  belonged  to  Hawley's  outfit;  one,  a 

338 


THE  CABIN  TAKEN  339 

black-whiskered  surly  brute  Bristoe  remembered  hav- 
ing seen  in  Sheridan.  There  was  no  time  to  deal  with 
them  then,  and  a  "  Bar  X  "  man  was  placed  on  guard, 
with  orders  to  shoot  at  the  slightest  suspicious  move- 
ment. 

The  Indian,  then,  would  be  guarding  the  front  of  the 
house,  and  Sanchez  sleeping  inside.  Well,  the  former 
could  be  left  alone;  his  chance  of  escape  would  be  small 
enough  with  Fairbain  and  Neb  on  the  opposite  bank. 
Old  Sanchez  was  the  villain  they  wanted  —  dead  or 
alive.  With  this  In  view,  and  anxious  to  make  a  quick 
job  of  It,  the  three  entered  the  back  room,  and,  revol- 
vers in  hand,  groped  their  way  across  to  the  connecting 
door.  As  Hope  had  described,  this  had  been  securely 
fastened  by  a  stout  wooden  bar.  Bristoe  forced  it 
from  the  sockets,  not  without  some  slight  noise,  and 
Keith,  crouching  down  at  one  side,  lifted  the  latch. 

"  Keep  down  low,  boys,"  he  cautioned,  "  where  he 
can't  hit  you." 

With  one  quick  push  he  flung  the  door  wide  open, 
and  a  red  flash  lit  the  room.  There  were  two  sharp 
reports,  the  bullets  crashing  into  the  wall  behind  them, 
the  sudden  blaze  of  flame  revealing  the  front  door 
open,  and  within  It  the  black  outline  of  a  man's  figure. 
Two  of  the  men  fired  in  Instant  response,  leaping  reck- 
lessly  forward,  but  were  as  quickly  left  blind  in  the 


340  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

darkness,  the  outer  door  slammed  in  their  faces.  Out- 
side there  was  a  snarl  of  rage,  another  shot,  a  fierce 
curse  in  Spanish;  then  Keith  flung  the  door  wide  open, 
and  leaped  down  the  step.  As  he  did  so  he  struck  a 
body,  and  fell  forward,  his  revolver  knocked  from  his 
hand.  Rising  to  his  knees,  the  dim  light  of  the  stars 
revealed  a  man  already  half  across  the  stream.  Sud- 
denly two  sparks  of  fire  leaped  forth  from  the  blackness 
of  the  opposite  bank;  the  man  flung  up  his  hand,  stag- 
gered, then  went  stumbling  up  the  stream,  knee  deep  in 
water.  He  made  a  dozen  yards,  reeling  as  though 
drunk,  and  fell  forward,  face  down  across  a  spit  of 
sand.  Keith  stared  out  at  the  black,  motionless  shape, 
felt  along  the  ground  for  his  lost  gun,  and  arose  to 
his  feet.  Bristoe  had  turned  over  the  dead  body  at  the 
foot  of  the  steps,  and  was  peering  down  into  the  up- 
turned face. 

"  It 's  the  Indian,"  he  said  grimly,  "  Sanchez  must 
'a'  mistook  him  fer  one  of  us,  and  shot  the  poor  devil." 

"  And  Sanchez  himself  is  out  yonder  on  that  sand- 
spit,"  and  Keith  pointed;  then  lifted  his  voice  to  make 
it  carry  across  the  stream.  "  Come  on  over.  Doctor, 
you  and  Neb.  We  Ve  got  the  gang.  Bring  that  body 
out  there  along  with  you." 

The  "  Bar  X  "  man  waded  out  to  help,  and  the  three 
together  laid  the  dead  Mexican  outlaw  on  the  bank, 


THE  CABIN  TAKEN  341 

beside  the  Indian  he  had  shot  down  in  his  effort  to 
escape.  Keith  stood  for  a  moment  bending  low  to 
look  curiously  into  the  dead  face  —  wrinkled,  scarred, 
still  featuring  cruelty,  the  thin  lips  drawn  back  in  a 
snarl.  What  scenes  of  horror  those  eyes  had  gazed 
upon  during  fifty  years  of  crime;  what  suffering  of  men, 
women,  children;  what  deeds  of  rapine;  what  examples 
of  merciless  hate.  Juan  Sanchez  !  —  the  very  sound  of 
the  name  made  the  blood  run  cold.  "  Dead  or  alive !  " 
Well,  they  had  him  at  last  —  dead;  and  the  plainsman 
shuddered,  as  he  turned  away. 

Taking  Fairbain  with  him,  and  hastily  reviewing  late 
occurrences  to  him,  Keith  crossed  over  to  the  corral, 
realizing  that  their  work  —  his  work  —  was  not  wholly 
done  until  Hawley  had  been  located.  With  this  quest 
in  mind  he  strode  straight  to  the  black-bearded  giant 
who  had  guarded  Hope  from  Sheridan. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

The  man  looked  up  scowling. 

"  Hatchett,"  he  answered  gruffly. 

"  Well,  Hatchett,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  question 
or  two,  and  advise  you  to  reply  just  about  as  straight 
as  you  know  how.  I  am  In  no  mood  to-night  for  any 
foolishness.     Where  Is  'Black  Bart'  Hawley?" 

"  How  In  hell  should  I  know?  " 

"  You  do  know,  just  the  same.     Perhaps  not  to  an 


342  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

inch,  or  a  mile,  but  you  know  near  enough  where  he 
is,  and  where  he  has  been  since  you  left  Sheridan." 

"  If  I  do,  I  'm  damned  if  I  '11  tell  you." 

"No?  Well  now,  Hatchett,  listen  to  me,"  and 
Keith's  voice  had  in  it  the  click  of  a  steel  trap. 
"  You  '11  either  answer,  and  answer  straight,  or  we  '11 
hang  you  to  that  cottonwood  in  about  five  minutes.  If 
you  want  a  chance  for  your  miserable  life  you  answer 
me.  We  have  our  way  of  treating  your  kind  out  in 
this  country.  Sit  up,  you  brute!  Now  where  did 
Hawley  go  after  he  left  you?  " 

"  To  Fort  Earned." 

"  After  those  fresh  horses?  " 

"  Yes." 

"He  didn't  bring  them  to  you;  I  know  that. 
Where  has  he  been  since?  " 

"  Topeky  and  Leavenworth." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  He  writ  me  a  note  the  boss  herder  brought." 

"  Hand  it  over." 

Keith  took  the  dirty  slip  of  paper  the  man  reluc- 
tantly extracted  from  his  belt,  and  Fairbain  lit  matches 
while  he  ran  his  eyes  hastily  over  the  lines.  As  he 
ended  he  crushed  the  paper  between  his  fingers,  and 
walked  away  to  the  end  of  the  corral.  He  wanted  to 
be  alone,  to  think,  to  decide  definitely  upon  what  he 


THE  CABIN  TAKEN  343 

ought  to  do.  Hawley,  according  to  the  schedule  just 
read,  must  have  left  Earned  alone  early  the  day  be- 
fore; this  night  he  would  be  camped  at  the  water-hole; 
with  daybreak,  he  expected  to  resume  his  lonely  journey 
across  the  desert  to  the  Salt  Fork.  For  years  Keith 
had  lived  a  primitive  life,  and  in  some  ways  his  thought 
had  grown  primitive.  His  code  of  honor  was  that  of 
the  border,  tinged  by  that  of  the  South  before  the  war. 
The  antagonism  existing  between  him  and  this  gambler 
was  personal,  private,  deadly  —  not  an  affair  for  any 
others  —  outsiders  —  to  meddle  with.  He  could  wait 
here,  and  permit  Hawley  to  be  made  captive;  could 
watch  him  ride  unsuspectingly  into  the  power  of  these 
armed  men,  and  then  turn  him  over  to  the  law  to  be 
dealt  with.  The  very  thought  nauseated  him.  That 
would  be  a  coward's  act,  leaving  a  stain  never  to  be 
eradicated.  No,  he  must  meet  this  as  became  a  man, 
and  now,  now  before  Hope  so  much  as  dreamed  of  his 
purpose  —  aye,  and  before  he  spoke  another  word  of 
love  to  Hope.  He  wheeled  about  fully  decided  on  his 
course,  his  duty,  and  met  Fairbain  face  to  face. 

"  Jack,"  the  latter  said  earnestly,  "  I  read  the  note 
over  your  shoulder,  and  of  course  I  know  what  you 
mean  to  do.  A  Southern  gentleman  could  not  choose 
otherwise.  But  I  Ve  come  here  to  beg  you  to  let  me 
have  the  chance." 


344  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"You?"  surprised  and  curious.  "What  greater 
claim  on  that  fellow's  life  have  you  than  I?  " 

The  pudgy  hands  of  the  doctor  grasped  the  plains- 
man's shoulders. 

"  It 's  for  Christie,"  he  explained  brokenly.  "  She 
was  the  one  he  tried  to  run  away  with.  You  —  you 
know  how  I  feel." 

"  Sure,  I  know,"  shaking  the  other  off,  yet  not 
roughly.  "  But  it  happened  to  be  Miss  Waite  he  took, 
and  so  this  is  my  job,  Fairbain.  Besides,  I  've  got  an- 
other score  to  settle  with  him." 

He  wasted  little  time  upon  preparations, —  a  few  brief 
words  of  Instruction  to  Bristoe;  a  request  to  the  doc- 
tor not  to  leave  Hope  alone ;  the  extracting  of  a  promise 
from  the  two  "  Bar  X  "  men  to  return  to  Earned  with 
the  prisoners.  Then  he  roped  the  best  horse  in  the 
corral,  saddled  and  bridled  him,  and  went  into  the  cabin. 
She  had  a  light  burning,  and  met  him  at  the  door. 

"  I  thought  you  would  never  come,  but  they  told  me 
you  were  unhurt." 

"  Not  a  scratch,  little  girl ;  we  have  been  a  lucky 
bunch.  But  I  have  had  a  great  deal  to  look  after. 
Now  I  shall  be  obliged  to  ride  ahead  as  far  as  the  water- 
hole,  and  let  you  come  on  with  the  others  a  little  later, 
after  you  get  breakfast.  You  can  spare  me  a  few  hours, 
can't  you?  " 


THE  CABIN  TAKEN  345 

His  tone  was  full  of  good  humor,  and  his  lips  smil- 
ing, yet  somehow  she  felt  her  heart  sink,  an  inexplicable 
fear  finding  expression  in  her  eyes. 

"But  —  but  why  do  you  need  to  go?  Couldn't 
some  of  the  others?  " 

"  There  is  a  reason  which  I  will  explain  later,"  he 
said,  more  gravely.  "  Surely  you  can  trust  me,  Hope, 
and  feel  that  I  am  only  doing  what  it  seems  absolutely 
necessary  for  me  to  do?  "  He  bent  down,  and  kissed 
her.  "  It  will  be  only  for  a  few  hours,  and  no  cause 
for  worry.  Good-bye  now,  until  we  meet  to-night  at 
the  water-hole." 

The  east  was  gray  with  coming  daylight  as  he  rode 
plashing  across  the  stream  and  up  the  opposite  bank. 
She  watched  him,  rubbing  the  blinding  mist  from  her 
eyes,  until  horse  and  man  became  a  mere  dark  speck, 
finally  fading  away  completely  into  the  dull  plain  of  the 
desert. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE    DUEL    IN    THE    DESERT 

KEITH  rode  straight  forward  into  the  sandy  deso- 
lation, spurring  his  horse  into  a  swift  trot. 
After  one  glance  backward  as  they  clambered  up  the 
steep  bank,  a  glance  which  revealed  Hope's  slender 
form  in  the  cabin  door,  his  eyes  never  turned  again  that 
way.  He  had  a  man's  stern  work  to  do  out  yonder, 
and  his  purpose  could  not  be  swerved,  his  firmness  of 
hand  and  keenness  of  eye  affected,  by  any  thought  of 
her.  His  lips  compressed,  his  fingers  gripping  the  rein, 
he  drove  all  regretful  memory  from  his  mind,  until 
every  nerve  within  him  throbbed  in  unison  with  his  pres- 
ent purpose.  He  was  right;  he  knew  he  was  right.  It 
was  not  hate,  not  even  revenge,  which  had  sent  him 
forth,  leaving  love  behind,  but  honor  —  the  honor  of 
the  South,  and  of  the  frontier,  of  his  ancestry  and  his 
training  —  honor  that  drove  him  now  to  meet  Hawley 
face  to  face,  man  to  man,  to  settle  the  feud  between 
them  for  all  time.  And  he  rode  smiling,  gladly,  as  to  a 
tryst,  now  that  he  was  at  last  alone,  free  in  the  desert. 
The  hours  passed,  the  sun  rising  higher  in  the  blaz- 

346 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  DESERT         347 

ing  blue  of  the  sky;  the  horse,  wearied  by  the  constant 
pull  of  the  sand,  had  long  since  slowed  down  to  a  walk; 
the  last  dim  blur  of  the  cottonwoods  along  the  Fork 
had  disappeared;  and  the  rider  swayed  in  the  saddle, 
the  dead  lifelessness  of  sky  and  desert  dulling  his 
brain.  Yet  he  had  not  forgotten  his  errand  —  rous- 
ing constantly  from  lethargy  to  sweep  his  shaded  eyes 
about  the  rounded  horizon,  keenly  marking  the  slightest 
shadow  across  the  sands,  taking  advantage  of  every 
drift  to  give  him  wider  viewpoint,  rising  in  his  stirrups 
to  scan  the  leagues  of  desolation  ahead.  Twice  he  drew 
his  revolver  from  out  its  sheath,  tested  it,  and  slipped 
in  a  fresh  cartridge,  returning  the  weapon  more  lightly 
to  its  place,  the  flap  of  the  holster  turned  back  and 
held  open  by  his  leg.  The  sun  beat  upon  him  like  a 
ball  of  fire,  the  hot  sand  flinging  the  blaze  back  into 
his  face.  He  pushed  back  the  upper  part  of  his  shirt, 
and  drank  a  swallow  of  tepid  water  from  a  canteen 
strapped  behind  the  saddle.  His  eyes  ached  with  the 
glare,  until  he  saw  fantastic  red  and  yellow  shapes  danc- 
ing dizzily  before  him.  The  weariness  of  the  long 
night  pressed  upon  his  eye-balls;  he  felt  the  strain  of  the 
past  hours,  the  lack  of  food,  the  need  of  rest.  His 
head  nodded,  and  he  brought  himself  to  life  again  with 
a  jerk  and  a  muttered  word,  staring  out  into  the  dim, 
formless  distance.     Lord,  if  there  was  only  something 


348  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

moving;  something  he  could  concentrate  his  attention 
upon;  something  to  rest  the  straining  eyes! 

But  there  was  nothing,  absolutely  nothing  —  just 
that  seemingly  endless  stretch  of  sand,  circled  by  the 
blazing  sky,  the  wind  sweeping  its  surface  soundless, 
and  hot,  as  though  from  the  pits  of  hell;  no  stir,  no 
motion,  no  movement  of  anything  animate  or  inanimate 
to  break  the  awful  monotony.  Death!  it  was  death 
everywhere !  his  aching  eyes  rested  on  nothing  but  what 
was  typical  of  death.  Even  the  heat  waves  seemed 
fantastic,  grotesque,  assuming  spectral  forms,  as  though 
ghosts  beckoned  and  danced  in  the  haze,  luring  him  on 
to  become  one  of  themselves.  Keith  was  not  a 
dreamer,  nor  one  to  yield  easily  to  such  brain  fancies, 
but  the  mad  delirium  of  loneliness  gripped  him,  and 
he  had  to  struggle  back  to  sanity,  beating  his  hands 
upon  his  breast  to  stir  anew  the  sluggish  circulation  of 
his  blood,  and  talking  to  the  horse  in  strange  feverish- 
ness. 

With  every  step  of  advance  the  brooding  silence 
seemed  more  profound,  more  deathlike.  He  got  to 
marking  the  sand  ridges,  their  slight  variations  giving 
play  to  the  brain.  Way  off  to  the  left  was  the  mirage 
of  a  lake,  apparently  so  real  that  he  had  to  battle  with 
himself  to  keep  from  turning  aside.  He  dropped  for- 
ward in  the  saddle,  his  head  hanging  low,  so  blinded 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  DESERT         349 

by  the  incessant  sun  glare  he  could  no  longer  bear  the 
glitter  of  that  horrible  ocean  of  sand.  It  was  noon  now 
—  noon,  and  he  had  been  riding  steadily  seven  hours. 
The  thought  brought  his  blurred  eyes  again  to  the  hori- 
zon. Where  could  he  be,  the  man  he  sought  in  the 
heart  of  this  solitude  ?  Surely  he  should  be  here  by  now, 
if  he  had  left  the  water-hole  at  dawn.  Could  he  have 
gone  the  longer  route,  south  to  the  Fork?  The  possi- 
bility of  such  a  thing  seared  through  him  like  a  hot  iron, 
driving  the  dulness  from  his  brain,  the  lethargy  from 
his  limbs.  God !  no !  Fate  could  never  play  such  a 
scurvy  trick  as  that!  The  man  must  have  been  de- 
layed; had  failed  to  leave  camp  early  —  somewhere 
ahead,  yonder  where  the  blue  haze  marked  the  union 
of  sand  and  sky,  he  was  surely  coming,  riding  half  dead, 
and  drooping  in  the  saddle. 

Again  Keith  rose  in  his  stirrups,  rubbing  the  mist 
out  of  his  eyes  that  he  might  see  clearer,  and  stared 
ahead.  What  was  that  away  out  yonder?  a  shadow? 
a  spot  dancing  before  his  tortured  vision?  or  a  mov- 
ing, living  something  which  he  actually  saw  ?  He  could 
not  tell,  he  could  not  be  sure,  yet  he  straightened  up 
expectantly,  shading  his  eyes,  and  never  losing  sight 
of  the  object.  It  moved,  grew  larger,  darker,  more 
real  —  yet  how  it  crawled,  crawled,  crawled  toward 
him.     It  seemed  as  if  the  vague,  shapeless  thing  would 


350  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

never  take  form,  never  stand  out  revealed  against  the 
sky  so  he  could  determine  the  truth.  He  had  forgot- 
ten all"  else  —  the  silent  desert,  the  blazing  sun,  the 
burning  wind  —  all  his  soul  concentrated  on  that  speck 
yonder.  Suddenly  It  disappeared  —  a  swale  In  the 
sand  probably  —  and,  when  it  rose  Into  view  again, 
he  uttered  a  cry  of  joy  —  It  was  a  horse  and  rider ! 

Little  by  little  they  drew  nearer  one  another,  two 
black  specks  in  that  vast  ocean  of  sand,  the  only  mov- 
ing, living  things  under  the  brazen  circle  of  the  sky. 
Keith  was  ready  now,  his  eyes  bright,  the  cocked  revol- 
ver gripped  hard  In  his  hand.  The  space  between 
them  narrowed,  and  Hawley  saw  him,  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  face  under  the  broad  hat  brim,  the  burning  eyes 
surveying  him.  With  an  oath  he  stopped  his  horse, 
dragging  at  his  gun,  surprised,  dazed,  yet  instantly 
understanding.  Keith  also  halted,  and  across  the  in- 
tervening desert  the  eyes  of  the  two  men  met  in  grim 
defiance.  The  latter  wet  his  dry  lips,  and  spoke 
shortly : 

"  I  reckon  you  know  what  this  means,  Hawley,  and 
why  I  am  here.  We  're  Southerners  both  of  us,  and 
we  settle  our  own  personal  affairs.  You  've  got  to 
fight  me  now,  man  to  man." 

The  gambler  glanced  about  him,  and  down  at  his 


Across  the  intervening  desert  the  eyes  of  the  two  men  met 
in  grim  defiance 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  DESERT         351 

horse.  If  he  thought  of  flight  It  was  useless.  His 
hp  curled  with  contempt. 

"  Damn  your  talking,  Keith,"  he  returned  savagely. 
"  Let 's  have  it  over  with,"  and  spurred  his  horse.  The 
gun  of  the  other  came  up. 

"  Wait!  "  and  Hawley  paused,  dragging  at  his  rein. 
"  One  of  us  most  likely  is  going  to  die  here;  perhaps 
both.  But  if  either  survives  he  '11  need  a  horse  to  get 
out  of  this  alive.  Dismount;  I'll  do  the  same;  step 
away  so  the  horses  are  out  of  range,  and  then  we  '11  fight 
it  out  —  is  that  square  ?  " 

Without  a  word,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  cunning 
hatred,  the  gambler  swung  down  from  his  saddle  onto 
the  sand,  his  horse  interposed  between  him  and  the 
other.  Keith  did  the  same,  his  eyes  peering  across  the 
back  of  his  animal. 

"  Now,"  he  said  steadily,  "  when  I  count  three  drive 
your  horse  aside,  and  let  go  —  are  you  ready?  " 

"  Damn  you  —  yes  !  " 

"  Then  look  out  —  one !  two !  three !  " 

The  plainsman  struck  his  horse  with  the  quirt  in  his 
left  hand,  and  sprang  swiftly  aside  so  as  to  clear  the 
flank  of  the  animal,  his  shooting  arm  flung  out.  There 
was  a  flash  of  flame  across  Hawley's  saddle,  a  sharp 
report,   and  Keith  reeled  backward,   dropping  to  his 


352  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

knees,  one  hand  clutching  at  the  sand.  Again  Hawley 
fired,  but  the  horse,  startled  by  the  double  report,  leaped 
aside,  and  the  ball  went  wild.  Keith  wheeled  about, 
steadying  himself  with  his  outstretched  hand,  and  let 
drive,  pressing  the  trigger,  until,  through  the  haze  over 
his  eyes,  he  saw  Hawley  go  stumbling  down,  shooting 
wildly  as  he  fell.  The  man  never  moved,  and  Keith 
endeavored  to  get  up,  his  gun  still  held  ready,  the  smoke 
circling  about  them.  He  had  been  shot  treacherously, 
as  a  cowardly  cur  might  shoot,  and  he  could  not  clear 
his  mind  of  the  thought  that  this  last  act  hid  treachery 
also.  But  he  could  not  raise  himself,  could  not  stand; 
red  and  black  shadows  danced  before  his  eyes;  he  be- 
lieved he  saw  the  arm  of  the  other  move.  Like  a 
snake  he  crept  forward,  holding  himself  up  with  one 
hand,  his  head  dizzily  reeling,  but  his  gun  held  steadily 
on  that  black,  shapeless  object  lying  on  the  sand.  Then 
the  revolver  hand  began  to  quiver,  to  shake,  to  make 
odd  circles;  he  couldn't  see;  it  was  all  black,  all  noth- 
ingness. Suddenly  he  went  down  face  first  into  the 
sand. 

They  both  lay  motionless,  the  thirsty  sand  drinking 
in  their  life  blood,  Hawley  huddled  up  upon  his  left 
side,  his  hat  still  shading  the  glazing  eyes,  Keith  lying 
flat,  his  face  in  the  crook  of  an  arm  whose  hand  still 
gripped  a  revolver.     There  was  a  grim  smile  on  his  lips, 


THE  DUEL  IN  THE  DESERT         353 

as  If,  even  as  he  pitched  forward,  he  knew  that,  after 
he  had  been  shot  to  death,  he  had  gotten  his  man.  The 
riderless  horses  gazed  at  the  two  figures,  and  drifted 
away,  slowly,  fearfully,  still  held  In  mute  subjection  to 
their  dead  masters  by  dangling  reins.  The  sun  blazed 
down  from  directly  overhead,  the  heat  waves  rising  and 
falling,  the  dead,  desolate  desert  stretching  to  the  sky. 
An  hour,  two  hours  passed.  The  horses  were  now  a 
hundred  yards  away,  nose  to  nose;  all  else  was  change- 
less. Then  Into  the  far  northern  sky  there  rose  a  black 
speck,  growing  larger  and  larger;  others  came  from  east 
and  west,  beating  the  air  with  widely  outspread  wings, 
great  beaks  stretched  forward.  Out  from  their  nests 
of  foulness  the  desert  scavengers  were  coming  for  their 
spoil. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

AT   THE   WATER-HOLE 

UP  from  the  far,  dim  southwest  they  rode  slowly, 
silently,  wearied  still  by  the  exertions  of  the  past 
night,  and  burned  by  the  fierce  rays  of  the  desert  sun. 
No  wind  of  sufficient  force  had  blown  since  Keith  passed 
that  way,  and  they  could  easily  follow  the  hoof  prints 
of  his  horse  across  the  sand  waste.  Bristoe  was  ahead, 
hat  brim  drawn  low,  scanning  the  horizon  line  unceas- 
ingly. Somewhere  out  in  the  midst  of  that  mystery 
was  hidden  tragedy,  and  he  dreaded  the  knowledge  of 
its  truth.  Behind  him  Fairbain  and  Hope  rode  to- 
gether, their  lips  long  since  grown  silent,  the  man  ever 
glancing  uneasily  aside  at  her,  the  girl  drooping  slightly 
in  the  saddle,  with  pale  face  and  heavy  eyes.  Five 
prisoners,  lashed  together,  the  binding  ropes  fastened 
to  the  pommels  of  the  two  "  Bar  X  "  men's  saddles, 
were  bunched  together,  and  behind  all  came  Neb,  his 
black  face  glistening  in  the  heat. 

Suddenly  Bristoe  drew  rein,  and  rose  to  his  full 
length  in  the  stirrups,  shading  his  eyes  from  the  sun's 
glare,    as   he    stared    ahead.     Two   motionless    black 

354 


AT  THE  WATER-HOLE  355 

specks  were  visible  —  yet  were  they  motionless?  or 
was  It  the  heat  waves  which  seemed  to  yield  them  move- 
ment? He  drove  In  his  spurs,  driving  his  startled 
horse  to  the  summit  of  a  low  sand  ridge,  and  again 
halted,  gazing  Intently  forward.  He  was  not  mistaken 
—  they  were  horses.  Knowing  Instantly  what  It 
meant  —  those  riderless  animals  drifting  derelict  In  the 
heart  of  the  desert  —  his  throat  dry  with  fear,  the 
scout  wheeled,  and  spurred  back  to  his  party,  quickly 
resolving  on  a  course  of  action.  Hawley  and  Keith 
had  met;  both  had  fallen,  either  dead  or  wounded.  A 
moment's  delay  now  might  cost  a  life;  he  would  need 
Fairbain,  but  he  must  keep  the  girl  back.  If  possible. 
But  could  he?  She  straightened  up  In  the  saddle  as  he 
came  spurring  toward  them;  her  eyes  wide  open,  one 
hand  clutching  at  her  throat. 

*'  Doctor,"  he  called  as  soon  as  he  was  near  enough, 
his  horse  circling,  "  thar  Is  somethin'  showin'  out  yon- 
der I  'd  like  ter  take  a  look  at,  an'  I  reckon  you  better 
go  'long.  The  nigger  kin  com'  up  ahead  yere  with 
Miss  Walte." 

She  struck  her  horse,  and  he  plunged  forward,  bring- 
ing her  face  to  face  with  Bristoe. 

"  What  Is  It?     Tell  me,  what  Is  It?  " 

*'  Nothin'  but  a  loose  boss.  Miss." 

*'  A  horse!  here  on  the  desert?  "  looking  about,  her 


356  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

eyes    dark   with   horror.     "  But   how   could   that   be? 
Could  —  could  It  be  Captain  Keith's?  " 

Bristoe  cast  an  appealing  glance  at  Fairbain,  mop- 
ping his  face  vigorously,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  and 
the  other  attempted  to  turn  the  tide. 

"  Not  likely  —  not  likely  at  all  —  no  reason  why  It 
should  be  —  probably  just  a  stray  horse  —  you  stay 
back  here,  Miss  Hope  —  Ben  and  I  will  find  out,  and 
let  you  know." 

She  looked  at  the  two  faces,  realizing  intuitively  that 
they  were  concealing  something. 

*'  No,  I  'm  going,"  she  cried,  stifling  a  sob  In  her 
throat.     "  It  would  kill  me  to  wait  here." 

She  was  off  before  either  might  raise  hand  or  voice 
In  protest,  and  they  could  only  urge  their  horses  in 
effort  to  overtake  her,  the  three  racing  forward  fetlock 
deep  in  sand.  Mounted  upon  a  swifter  animal  Fair- 
bain forged  ahead;  he  could  see  the  two  horses  now 
plainly,  their  heads  uplifted,  their  reins  dangling. 
Without  perceiving  more  he  knew  already  what  was 
waiting  them  there  on  the  sand,  and  swore  fiercely,  spur- 
ring his  horse  mercilessly,  forgetful  of  all  else,  even 
the  girl,  in  his  Intense  desire  to  reach  and  touch  the 
bodies.  He  had  begged  to  do  this  himself,  to  be 
privileged  to  seek  this  man  Hawley,  to  kill  him  —  but 
now  he  was  the  physician,  with  no  other  thought  except 


AT  THE  WATER-HOLE  357 

a  hope  to  save.  Before  his  horse  had  even  stopped 
he  flung  himself  from  the  saddle,  ran  forward  and 
dropped  on  his  knees  beside  Keith,  bending  his  ear  to 
the  chest,  grasping  the  wrist  In  his  fingers.  As  the 
others  approached,  he  glanced  up,  no  conception  now  of 
aught  save  his  own  professional  work. 

"  Water,  Bristoe,"  he  exclaimed  sharply,  "  DasH 
some  brandy  in  It.  Quick  now.  There,  that's  It; 
hold  his  head  up  —  higher.  Yes,  you  do  it,  Miss 
Hope;  here,  Ben,  take  this,  and  pry  his  teeth  open  — 
well,  he  got  a  swallow  anyhow.  Hold  him  just  as  he 
is  —  can  you  stand  It?  I  've  got  to  find  where  he  was 
hit." 

"Yes  —  yes,"  she  answered,  "don't  —  don't  mind 
me." 

He  tore  open  the  woolen  shirt,  soaked  with  blood 
already  hardening,  felt  within  with  skilled  fingers,  his 
eyes  keen,  his  lips  muttering  unconsciously. 

"  Quarter  of  an  inch  —  quarter  of  an  Inch  too  high 
=r-r  scraped  the  lung  —  Lord,  if  I  can  only  get  It  out 

—  got  to  do  It  now  —  can't  wait  —  here,  Bristoe,  that 
leather  case  on  my  saddle  —  run,  damn  you  —  we  '11 
save  him  yet,  girl  —  there,  drop  his  head  In  your  lap 

—  yes,  cry  if  you  want  to  —  only  hold  still  —  open 
the  case,  will  you  —  down  here,  where  I  can  reach  it 

—  now  water  ■■ —  all  our  canteens  —  Hope,  tear  me  off 


358  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 


a  strip  of  your  under-skirt  —  what  am  I  going  to  do? 
—  extract  the  ball  —  got  to  do  it  ^—  blood  poison  in 
this  sun." 

She  ripped  her  skirt,  handing  it  to  him  without  a 
word;  then  dropped  her  white  face  in  her  hands,  bend- 
ing, with  closed  eyes,  over  the  whiter  face  resting  on 
her  lap,  her  lips  trembling  with  the  one  prayer,  "  Oh, 
God!  Oh,  God!  "  How  long  he  was  at  it,  or  what  he 
did,  she  scarcely  knew  —  she  heard  the  splash  of  water ; 
caught  the  flash  of  the  sun  on  the  probe;  felt  the  half 
conscious  shudder  of  the  wounded  man,  whose  head 
was  in  her  lap,  the  deft,  quick  movements  of  Fairbain, 
and  then  — 

"That's  it  —  I've  got  it  —  missed  the  lung  by  a 
hair  —  damn  me  I  'm  proud  of  that  job  —  you  're  a 
good  girl." 

She  looked  at  him,  scarce  able  to  see,  her  eyes  blinded 
with  tears. 

"  Will  —  will  he  live  ?     Oh,  tell  me  I  " 

"Live!  Why  shouldn't  he?  —  nothing  but  a  hole 
to  close  up  —  nature  '11  do  that,  with  a  bit  of  nursing 
—  here,  now,  don't  you  keel  over  —  give  me  the  rest 
of  that  skirt." 

He  bandaged  the  wound,  then  glanced  about  sud- 
denly. 


AT  THE  WATER-HOLE  359 

"  How  's  the  other  fellow?  " 

"  Dead,"  returned  Bristoe,  "  shot  through  the  heart." 

"  Thought  so  —  have  seen  Keith  shoot  before  —  I 
wonder  how  the  cuss  ever  managed  to  get  him." 

As  he  arose  to  his  feet,  his  red  face  glistening  with 
perspiration,  and  began  strapping  his  leather  case,  the 
others  rode  up,  and  Bristoe,  explaining  the  situation, 
set  the  men  to  making  preparations  for  pushing  on  to 
the  water-hole.  Blankets  were  swung  between  ponies, 
and  the  bodies  of  the  dead  and  wounded  deposited 
therein,  firm  hands  on  the  bridles.  Hope  rode  close  be- 
side Keith,  struggling  to  keep  back  the  tears,  as  she 
watched  him  lying  motionless,  unconscious,  scarcely 
breathing.  So,  under  the  early  glow  of  the  desert  stars, 
they  came  to  the  water-hole,  and  halted. 

The  wounded  man  opened  his  eyes,  and  looked  about 
him  unable  to  comprehend.  At  first  all  was  dark, 
silent;  then  he  saw  the  stars  overhead,  and  a  breath  of 
air  fanned  the  near-by  fire,  the  ruddy  glow  of  flame 
flashing  across  his  face.  He  heard  voices  faintly, 
and  thus,  little  by  little,  consciousness  asserted  itself 
and  memory  struggled  back  into  his  bewildered  brain. 
The  desert  —  the  lonely  leagues  of  sand  —  his  fingers 
gripped  as  if  they  felt  the  stock  of  a  gun  —  yet  that 
was  all  over  —  he  was  not  there  —  but  he  was  some- 


36o  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

where  —  and  alive,  alive.  It  hurt  him  to  move,  to 
breathe  even,  and  after  one  effort  to  turn  over,  he  lay 
perfectly  still,  staring  up  into  the  black  arch  of  sky, 
endeavoring  to  think,  to  understand  —  where  was  he? 
How  had  he  come  there?  Was  Hawley  alive  also?  A 
face  bent  over  him,  the  features  faintly  visible  in  the 
flash  of  firelight.  His  dull  eyes  lit  up  In  sudden  recol- 
lection. 

"  Doc!  is  that  you?" 

"  Sure,  old  man,"  the  pudgy  fingers  feeling  his  pulse, 
the  gray  eyes  twinkling.  "  Narrow  squeak  you  had  — 
going  to  pull  through  all  right,  though  —  no  sign  of 
fever." 

"Where  am  I?" 

"  At  the  water-hole;  sling  you  In  a  blanket,  and  get 
you  into  Earned  to-morrow." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  Keith  finding  It  hard 
to  speak. 

"Hawley — ?"  he  whispered  at  last. 

"Oh,  don't  worry;  you  got  him  all  right.  Say," 
his  voice  sobering,  "  maybe  It  was  just  as  well  you  took 
that  job.     If  it  had  been  me  I  would  have  been  in  bad." 

The  wounded  man's  eyes  questioned. 

"  It 's  a  bad  mix-up,  Keith.  Waite  never  told  us  all 
of  It.     I  reckon  he  did  n't  want  her  to  know,  and  she 


AT  THE  WATER-HOLE  361 

never  shall,  if  I  can  help  it.  I  've  been  looking  over 
some  papers  in  his  pocket  —  he  'd  likely  been  after  them 
this  trip  —  and  his  name  ain't  Hawley.  He  's  Bartlett 
Gale,   Christie's  father." 

Keith  could  not  seem  to  grasp  the  thought,  his  eyes 
half-closed. 

"  Her  —  her  father?  "  he  questioned,  weakly.  "  Do 
you  suppose  he  knew?  " 

"No;  not  at  first,  anyhow;  not  at  Sheridan.  He 
was  too  interested  in  his  scheme  to  even  suspicion  he 
had  actually  stumbled  onto  the  real  girl.  I  think  he 
just   found  out." 

A  coyote  howled  somewhere  in  the  darkness,  a 
melancholy  chorus  joining  in  with  long-drawn 
cadence.  A  shadow  swept  into  the  radius  of  dancing 
firelight. 

"Is  he  conscious.  Doctor?" 

Fairbain  drew  back  silently,  and  she  dropped  on 
her  knees  at  Keith's  side,  bending  low  to  look  into  his 
face. 

"Hope  — Hope." 

"  Yes,  dear,  and  you  are  going  to  live  now  —  live  for 
me." 

He  found  her  hand,  and  held  It,  clasped  within  his 
own,  his  eyes  wide  open. 


362  KEITH  OF  THE  BORDER 

"  I  have  never  told  you,"  he  said,  softly,  "  how  much 
I  love  you." 
She  bent  lower  until  her  cheek  touched  his. 
"  No,  Jack,  but  you  may  now." 


THE   END 


X 


^s 


^200,35 


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